Retrace
by inkedvigilante
Summary: After the Calamity overturned the world, Hungary awakens in a nightmare, Switzerland suffers the consequences of his actions and another Nation has everything to his favour but desires something more. The Calamity has brought despair and with it: lies, illusions and charm...and something else worse. Time is ticking. Rated T-M: blood, corpse, insults (Editing Minor Things in Chp 10)
1. The First Prey

_Inspired by Glassamilk's Gutters and Sunruner's Walls._

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NOTE: You don't have to have read Gutters or Walls to read this. I have also described some things to acknowledge those not familiar to the Hetalia fandom. Hopefully this is enough. And please Review!

Part 1 is now available. (Retrace: Pavements)

**WARNING Rated T-M**: May contain GRAPHIC, DARK CONTENT like dead things, insults and blood.

I will address to as much mistakes as I can. Thank you and I wish you luck on traversing this hell with Romania, Switzerland and Hungary! :D

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**1: The First Prey**

**(~)**

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He was trying to keep quiet, but the drag of the wooden sled against the cold stone rattled with noise. Droplets of water plopped on the wet, slippery cavern floors, rhythmically disguising the patter of little feet lurking behind him. Though he knew a young child was following him, he had only smiled and proceeded to the cave's exit.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, the young man hastily hauled the barrow through the hidden passage way. He left it leaning against the mouth of the cave and went back inside to fetch the last of his bags. The moment he re-entered, sad eyes and tiny fingers, greeted him.

"Are you leaving us again?" asked the little girl, tugging on his dark red-purple coat as he picked up the last of his things. "Where are you going? Can I go with you?"

The young male kneeled to her level and with a gloved hand he lifted her chin. "I won't be gone for so long."

The girl was only six years old, and yet, her tired eyes displayed a motherly concern years beyond her age. A Calamity, they called it, had shaken the world more than a month ago and tremendously changed the people who survived it, including this one little child he cared for.

Her name was Nadia, an orphan who grew fond of him after he had rescued her from the terrifying events of June. She was one of many who were saved and safely hidden in the caverns they now called home.

_ "Copilule, îţi mai spun o dată_," he smiled reassuringly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I leave once in a while because I want to buy you toys and get some…um…groceries. I've been gone before and I've returned, see? Besides, your friends always keep you company, am I right?"

The little girl whimpered. "But they're not as fun as you, Mister! You always have jokes and…and sometimes everyone here…we just don't know if you'll come back and stuff!"

"_Nu te teme de zmei_." The man hugged her tightly, letting her sob in his arms.

He was gentle towards children and he loved them like they were his own. Unfortunately he had never adopted any, nor had his own sons or daughters. He was not to have any children under his name because he was an entirely different being with immense responsibility. Human-shaped, alike in appearance, and in every aspect a human being, he had a part in his soul that deviated from the norm.

He was not the only one of this kind. There were others out there who had probably survived the Calamity, and he hoped to find any of them.

For a long while, he did not say anything. He was immersed with the cave's ambience and Nadia's tiny sniffles. His thoughts were like the droplets of a slithering stream, soaking the walls and floors of the cave.

All of a sudden, he sensed silent footsteps and anxious heartbeats coming up to them; it sounded like a small group of folks reluctantly approaching. He felt now was the time for him to leave.

The man stood up and took his bags. He felt people emerging out of the shadows, watching him prepare his departure. They looked at him like he was their Saviour and that single idea burdened him.

He turned to an odd bunch of men lined up before the group, and addressed the usual routines when he traveled out. Every healthy person in the caves had a responsibility, with an addition to more jobs when he was absent. Nadia, though a child, had a duty to look after the other children.

His patrol men, trustworthy and stealthy soldiers whom he had chosen to take charge, had the utmost, crucial duty to secure the outside perimeters of the cave. He made sure every single individual adhered to each other; from the youngest to the eldest. Everyone contributed.

Order among them was manageable because they were a large populace, content, satisfied, and simply grateful to be alive. No one really complained with the living conditions in the vast tunnelling grottos. They had each other to look after and there was not much to complain about with a good food supply.

Before disappearing out the passage, he glanced back one more time and grinned merrily to the worried faces of the men, women and children who depended on him.

When circumstances despaired and provisions dwindled, he was forced to leave and travel outside, usually alone. He was always missed by his people, especially the children. His absence had always worried them and at times, they claimed feeling quite vulnerable without him.

Their concern gnawed him inside. Alas, he had to go through it. He had to leave every now and then.

He had solely made himself _the_ leader after all, and not only that, he was a stronger being, a longer, lasting, youthful representative _being_ of them. Of his country.

He was an embodiment, a Nation-being. His people did not know, and they would probably never know. Though, he was not the only one living in deception. Nation-beings abounded the earth ever since mankind had established territories. The oldest Nation-beings had died off of age, but as people had founded countries, his kind flourished, born and raised in their nation. They were made to maintain their people, their history, their country and their legacy...

"I will return," the young man boldly reassured, hoping to lighten the mood. "I have always returned! Maybe this time, I shall come back with a rubber chicken!" His beloved audience chucked, and with the tip of his hat and a wink, he was gone.

One of the patrol men slowly administered the people to their responsibilities. Nadia lingered at the exit, gazing listlessly at the passage, as if the man who left was only playing a game of peekaboo. An old woman and one of the skinny patrol men joined her. The old senior was one of the cooks who administered to the children's meals. She would usually care for Nadia more than the others because the child was rather mischievous.

"Dear, let's get cooking for super," sighed the old woman, resting a hand on her shoulder.

A patrol man, nicknamed "Lanky", stood between Nadia and the passage. The soldier was skinny, and it was quite obvious, he was more of a runner than a skilful fighter. His nickname actually came by accident. The so-called Saviour mentioned it once to poke fun of him, and then the name stuck ever since. Lanky, whose actual name was Marku Sala, never minded the label – in fact he grew quite fond of it. He felt like the name was a knightly title given by their respected Saviour. At least, it was a step up in the ranks reputation-wise and since none of the patrol men wore uniforms, a nickname gave recognition.

"Kid, he told us he'll be gone for 'nother eight days," he said.

For a moment, Nadia just looked at him, wondering if he was playing soldier or was actually one of the chosen patrol men. She nodded quickly and skittered away deep into the candle-lit cavern hall, her footsteps echoing behind her.

The old woman turned to the patrol man. "She's just frightful when he leaves!"

"Like the rest of us, Miss," Lanky told her. "But if he don' travel, then we're all, y'know, doomed."

"I still don't understand why he does not bring any of you along! He needs all the help he can get!" The old woman huffed and kicked at the dirt.

Lanky sighed, glancing at the passageway as if something was going to enter. "I know, Miss…that's something I've nev' come to understand from 'm. He told us he'll be faster travelin' by himself 'cause h'knows de short routes, Miss. Said 'e can dodge any danger 'nd stuff. Perhaps he's jus' invisible or somethin'...

"We don' know all of 'im, Miss, he jus' knows what's going on more d'n us, y'know?" He shrugged. "I think 'es after som'thin'…maybe lookin' fer someone. But it's none of our business to pry, y'know?"

"I don't care what he thinks is going on or what he's after! That mask does not protect him all the time, I bet you!" The woman threw her arms up and started after Nadia. "I just hope he knows how much he's got to lose here!"

Lanky strolled after her to safely escort through the cavern halls. "He's got an agenda, Miss. I think he'll tell us what's in it when 'e comes back."

* * *

_ Corpses._

A revolting stench lingered in her nostrils, and to make matters worse, an enormous amount of weight was pressing against her body to suffocation. The woman's chest heaved in vain for a gulp of precious air.

Air.

She choked and coughed out a thick, curdling liquid forming in her throat. Feeling as if she was wedged under something of extreme weight, her hands and feet began to feel numb. Limbs trapped under unusually soft dirt, it was hard to wriggle around. _It's so dark, _she thought to herself_. Where am I? What? I am…Hungary. Elizaveta Hédévary. Yes. I…I…can't recall what…Istenem, my head's throbbing! Water. I feel thirsty…._

Her body barely moving, the Nation opened her eyes. Horror descended in her very soul at the sight before her.

_ Corpses._

She was caved in a piling mass of pale, lifeless bodies with only a plank of wood holding up the dead above her. The bodies were so numerous that barely any light from the surface reached her.

_ Corpses._

It was a cave made up of the dead and she felt like one of the bricks holding it up. The bodies trapping her were cold and drenched with muddied water dripping from an unknown source. She started sweating. Under these conditions, who knows how long she could stay alive in here? How long has she even _been in_ here? She could feel heat emanating from the surface above, but the bodies surrounding her were strangely cold. It was rather disturbing to find any comfort in here.

Among the dead there were some naked but the rest were clothed with tattered rags. Most of them were men and women, but what really broke her heart were the few lifeless bodies of children among them. There were probably layers and layers of bodies around her. Digging herself out of this mess would take hours. She was virtually drowning under the spell of her worst nightmares.

Hungary struggled upright after freeing her limbs. She gave herself a quick stretch, and then she noticed her flower piece missing from her hair. A little distraught, she brushed it aside and focused on the matters at hand, like trying not to panic as her senses became more and more overwhelmed with every second.

Resisting the urge to retch from the sight and smell, she pushed her way upwards. She was careful not to knock the wooden plank for fear that the dead would collapse on her. Slowly but surely, her legs and arms writhed through climbing over body after body. She was a little fortunate that the corpses were easy to shove aside as she wormed her way through. The Magyar struggled to overcome the claustrophobic proximity of the dead and in an unsettling way, it was almost intimate.

It was a gruelling process, the dread of one of the corpses suddenly coming to life and attacking her lingered in her mind. The scent of decomposing flesh made her feel nauseous and shake, but she was able to make good progress.

A moment passed when the mass gave a sickening drop beneath her. As she paused for a moment to regain her breath, Hungary figured the wood plank below finally gave way. The collapse beneath opened up a hole above, letting in a bright ray of light shine down like a beacon of hope. With newfound spirit, the Nation climbed on, but as she neared the top she gradually started coughing; what looked like snow fall was actually ash and it was filling her lungs rapidly.

Her lungs writhed in pain as she climbed up higher, coughing until something thick choked in her throat. Something like…mucus? Panicking at the thought of blood and ash, she tore a shred of cloth off her tattered uniform and held it up to her mouth to limit ash intake.

Her throat convulsed violently and her eyes watered. She collapsed in a fit of coughs as her body involuntarily tried to free itself of the glue-like congealment. To her surprise, the fluid was not blood, but an illuminating blue-green. _Weird. Since when does mucus glow?_ Hungary thought as she cleared the rest of the strange substance from her lungs. She was so confused. _Glowing green? What is this, from the ash…?_

Her hand wandered in one of the pockets of her torn military uniform and fished out a half empty syringe. The liquid in it was the same colour. _Who -?_ She gasped at the memory of a man – the man who orchestrated an everlasting symphony. Austria. _"Just you and me."_

Returning the needle back in her pocket, his memory gave her a renewed fiery spirit that propelled her up the seemingly endless mountain of corpses. _Where are you, Roderich?_ Eyes squinting at the light from the surface, she hacked more ashy mucus out of her body before reaching out of the dead mound. Tears rolled down her cheeks when she emerged from the pit, and then she finally realized something in her heart.

The dead corpses were the bodies of her people.

Dragging herself out of the brim of a nightmare, she sobbed so hard, careless of the noise she made. For all she could tell, the place was grey and desolate with a constant haze of ash silently descending upon everything. Although she dug herself out of the bodies there was another ditch walled around her. It was a much wider crater and the bodies had sunken even further at its epicentre. Thankfully, it was an easier climb to ground level.

Hungary peered over the crater and saw a dusty, grey plain with random spikes of charred trees. Alone and exhausted, the Nation stayed where she was, until her tears turned to fright when she noticed something overwhelming.

A sorrowful sight of carcasses scattered uniformly across the mound. The grotesque bodies that laid on top suffered heat but what made Hungary bolt upright horror-stricken were the sight of some of them cut up like, they were…_half-eaten_.

There was a sudden growl within the Hungarian that surprised her. Hunger._ But I would have died long ago if I was famished…No. When have I…? How long _has_ it been…? _She assumed that the green serum had something to do with this.

Austria gave it to her –a while ago_, maybe?_ And it had been working inside her body ever since she injected it –_which was when exactly?_ She could barely recall what happened because her mind was clouded by hunger and trauma.

Her stomach turned at the thought of feasting on the gruesome decay. _My people! My children! Istenem, you have forsaken me! _Maddened and outraged, Hungary tore the silence with wails of pain that came from her heart._ I'm hungry! I don't know where I am! My people! Oh god, my children! This is your worst –! _Her knees weakened and once again she collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap. The silence was broken by Hungary's muffled cries as she fought to regain some composure. Within the passing minutes, Hungary closed her eyes to recover and find stillness. It was utterly quiet before she heard something just outside the crater.

Instinctively, she armed herself with a bone from one of the carcasses and quickly pressed her body against the crater's slope to hide. Heart racing, she could hear disembodied breathing coming closer. There were light footsteps and the sound of something heavy –possibly wooden – being dragged across the dusty ground.

It stopped.

Something dropped to the ground and a wary silence followed.

Hungary clenched the long bone with both hands, like she would a sword.

Nothing stirred.

It was as if the thing above waited for her to make noise. A chilling thought shook her blood. _What if it's a…a man-eating creature?_

Taking a risk, she pulled herself together and peered over the slope, her bone ready to club the nearest beast. She froze when she saw a figure hunched over a wooden sled filled with crates. It was clearly unaware of her presence. Something about the figure did not look human, and when Hungary emerged out of the crater's wall to investigate she realized it was a decoy.

A gloved hand snatched her bone and clutched her good arm. Screaming, she wrestled her arm away from the stranger and kicked impulsively, only to stumble back down the slope.

From his lean stature, the stranger was a young man, wearing a dark purple-reddish coat, with folded sleeves, striped inside. He had on dark pants, sturdy, agile boots, and was wearing a hood over his head and a three-filter gas mask that covered his whole face. It was hard to tell who was beneath it at first, but the overcoat was somewhat familiar.

Defenceless and worn out, Hungary scrambled back. The Nation painfully anticipated for a pending attack, but instead, the stranger was examining the bone he held.

He chuckled. "Humor me with the _humerus_? Cool, you _are_ going mad." The young man disposed the bone, deeming it useless. "I can't believe that of all people of our kind I find _you_ first."

Hungary was thinking the same thing. She instantly recognized the accent and with a hiss in her voice she uttered his name with distaste. "_Románia_…"

The stranger turned to face her and tossed his hood off carelessly. He flourished a small hat from his jacket pocket and placed it on his light gold-brown hair. Revealing his face behind the mask, he raised an eye-brow at her and smirked. "You look ravishing in the colour _dead _white," he said uninterestedly. He picked up his sled and started to tow it away.

Hungary pleaded the god above for a frying pan right now. She jumped to her feet furiously and stepped over the slope. Her rage ignited when she stumbled on to the surface to level with him.

"You son of a land-grabber!" She did not know why she was yelling. "Tell me where I am or I'll –" she broke off, a fit of coughs interrupted her. Stomach convulsing and knees giving in, once again she spewed out glowing fluids.

Romania approached her holding a gas mask similar to his. "A witch has cursed you," he mumbled, reluctantly handing her the mask. "Not that you weren't cursed before or anything..."

"I am not taking that, you idiot! Especially from you!" Hungary resisted, not entirely meaning her words.

"Whatever." Romania dropped the mask before her, his mood was changed instantly. "Take it from the ground then." And with that, he marched back to his sled.

Crouched and muddied on the ground, for a moment Hungary felt fragile. Her olive hair was in tangles, her face and skin was matted with sweat, dirt and ash. The hunger inside squeezed her belly. Wishing for something in the distance, she needed to find her long lost companions. She thought for a moment. _Who else do I remember?_ The grey barren land bore nothing but blackened trees and the crater of the dead.

"Just tell me which way is west," she muttered. "I want to get away from here…And I definitely do not want your pity!"

"What makes you think I pity you?" replied the other Nation. "I am simply giving you things that would be able to last you…er…maybe for a day out here –give or take a couple of hours. Magyar, you have no idea what you're up against." In front of her, he dropped a pair of boots and a half-opened can of soup.

Hungary got up, disregarding the offered materials. She was frustrated at how it was Romania who found her and not someone else. _Why him?!_ She gritted her teeth. The Hungarian Nation tried recalling the day of the Calamity, but the figures in her mind were blurry. She started pacing back and forth with disappointment.

Romania leaned against a blackened tree near his sled and observed her with distaste. "What are you doing?" he asked out of pure curiousity, yet she ignored him.

Careful not to fall in, Hungary walked along the perimeter of the god-forsaken ditch. Her thoughts were jumbled in her mind, but as she continued her pace, she started recalling the prior events.

She remembered the sirens ringing, cars melting, people running, fires erupting with deadly fumes, her people crowding into the nearest shelters. There was a cry for her name… An earthquake dividing the manor she was in…The serum injecting in her body...Families running eastwards…Her pursuit for them…Buildings collapsing...The sink hole dragging her down… Austria. Prussia. Germany. Italy. Switzerland. Liechtenstein. Belarus. Turkey. The Words. The Great World Gathering. The Allegiances. Her Kingdom. The Austro-Hungarian Empire. The Revolts. The Wars…

On the other end of the crater, Hungary glanced at the far distance beyond, and from what she could see there were ruins fogged up by ashes. The Great Plains. _This must be the edge of the rolling land of my beloved country,_ she even further, her eyes found a different colour sliced against the grey. Water? Hungary gasped. _The Danube._ The river could take her east to Austria. But she did not remember the river this close inland…

She walked back to where Romania stood; his back to her as he was putting away the decoy he had set up. Hungary begrudgingly replaced her torn boots with the ones Romania gave and picked up the soup he provided. She was infuriated at how the new boots fit snugly along her calves and how delicious the soup tasted when she drank it down. _Of all people…why?_

The other Nation could not help but laugh; his back still turned to her. "Ha, ha! I can tell you've surrendered to those wicked things!"

Hungary kept calm but inside she wanted to explode. She picked up the mask and put it on. Thick air filled her lungs when she breathed in it, ash raked in her throat, making her cough. Romania had not given her a good mask, or maybe it was just because he dropped it on the ground earlier.

"Wow…" sighed Hungary loosening the mask from her face, she let it dangle around her neck uselessly. "You give people the crappiest things, Romania. It's no surprise."

She could tell Romania was grinning behind his gas filters. "I am saving the best ones for my people," he said. "They are far more important than you, you know. Oh! And I should have mentioned that I've just poisoned the soup!" Romania sarcastically added, as he tied up the load on his sled. "But don't you fret; I know this magical spell that will rid of all the bad things and whatnot...then again it might rid of _you_ entirely...Well if that happens, I won't have to worry about your little complaints. Now if I were you, I would shut up and head southeast."

Out of nowhere, Hungary violently shoved Romania to the dust. With him on the ground confused, she rapidly wrenched open a crate to steal supplies. _And head west!_ That was her plan, indeed an insanely rash one. She felt no resistance from Romania. _He's too much of a coward to fight back, _she thought._ Ha! I am almost finished ransacking his first crate and –_her hand suddenly felt something familiar.

Dumbfounded yet relieved, the Hungarian took out a lightweight stainless steel frying pan from one of the bags. Although used and burnt at the bottom, it was a beautiful sight to see. She looked closely. Romania's face was reflected on its surface. His eyes were dark and conniving.

In a mad frenzy, she swung the pan but missed. Romania grabbed the mask looped around her neck and pulled. Trying to twist herself free while maintaining her balance, Hungary swung her new weapon around to knock him out cold, but his hand gripped her arm constraining her assault. The strap of the mask along her neck choked her the more she struggled.

"Stop strangling yourself, damn it!" Romania yelled, practically in her ear. "Stupid witch, just relax and I'll let go! But I'm not letting you steal anything from me!"

Hungary had had enough, and with every ounce of strength she had left, she freed her arm and swung her pan blindly again. _PANG!_ She felt Romania's grip loosen. His hands flew to his head to stop an internal tremor, quite deafening that only he could hear pounding in his skull.

"_Serios, Ungaria?!_" cried the Romanian.

Hungary pointed the pan at him, ready for another attack, but instead, he dropped to the ground in defeat, brushing the back of his head as it earned a bruise.

"Get up!" growled Hungary, not knowing why she was trembling. "I'm taking some of your things to head WEST! I need to find Austria and the others!" Feeling her throat itch again, with her other hand she put on the mask around her neck.

Romania sat up but did not answer. He avoided her burning glare.

"I said get up!" she commanded, slightly muffled by the mask.

Finally the Nation met her eyes. "Really, Hungary? You seriously expect to prance across your dead land and find dearly beloved, Mister Austria, who you think is still alive?" A grin twisted across his face.

"Shut. Up." Hungary snarled, resisting the urge to break his skull.

The Romanian was unyielding. "Do you seriously think that you are able to walk across your god forsaken country with nothing but a frying pan and a crate of my stuff?"

"You – you underestimate me. Shut up!"

This time Romania stood up, fearless of another pan swing, he fixed his eyes to hers. "You just got out of a grave site of your people. You foolishly thought that you could outwit someone who has traveled this _glorious_ utopia several times. You have no idea how long you have been in that lovely, wormy pit. And you have absolutely no clue how much your people just love to eat each other in the middle of the night! Oh, and do you know what day it is? Hm?"

Hungary paled with no answer to give. She hated to admit he had a point. She just got out of the mess with nothing but a needle and she just climbed out of a nightmare! It was her impulsive behaviour to blame, right?

Romania held the pan pointed at him, both hands gentle, his anger faded. "Magyar, I believe this is mine." He slowly pried the frying pan from her before she blinked back emotion.

Hungary was not going to let the other Nation detect her misery. In her mind, she refuelled her inner hatred for the Romanian by mentally coming up with nasty, loathing insults that would have made Prussia proud and Austria dismayed.

Romania simply picked up his sled and moved on. "I'm heading southeast," he said. "If you want to live I suggest you follow and eat my dust." And with that, the Nation started onward to his direction.

Lingering behind, Hungary turned to the crater once more. When Romania was far from ear-shot, she bent down to pick up soil and watched them fall between her fingers.

"Sleep in peace, dear children," she whispered to the dead. "Embrace His kingdom…"

Sadly, she had no grave stone to formally honour them. _All I have is hope_, she told herself, tearfully_. _ "I will return and our country will live again, my brothers and sisters..."

Muttering in her native tongue, Hungary whispered a final prayer to them, before running after Romania disappearing in the horizon.

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**Writer's Ramble:**

_Copilule, îţi mai spun o dată (Romanian for: Child, I have already told you)_

_"__Nu te teme de zmei_," (Romanian for: Don't be afraid of the dragons in the forest) A line from a popular Romanian Lullaby "**Culcă-te, puiuţ micuţ**" which means "Go to Sleep my baby"

_Istenem! (Hungarian for: My God!)_

_Serios, Ungari?! (Romanian for: Seriously, Hungary?)_

**Special thanks to Marcy Charli Zara and Luna Safire for your edits and advice! :D **

**Credits to the TUMBLR users: Romaniankingdom(translations), Turtle-tamer and art to be posted in: Saviourless.**


	2. Touché

**2: Touché**

_"If you will it, it is no dream." - Theodor Herzl (Hungarian Zionist Leader, 1860-1904)_

* * *

Romania trundled along the barren wasteland, his sled leaving fresh tracks in the soft grey dirt. The wind whispered a quiet breath and ash scattered from every foot step he made. Pausing for a moment, he fixed the tiny red hat attached to his head and adjusted his filtration mask. He did not bother putting on his hood because at the moment, he was not concerned for his identity – being followed by 'the-one-and-only', there was no point in looking anonymous.

A light fog descended low to his legs, slightly covering his path. The broken paved road was rugged and the young man had to manoeuvre his sled over every bulging bump, gap and sinking hole. After the cataclysmic events months ago, the roads became dry, smoky and brittle. There were rocky areas and heated spots - and in some regions, the ash was a blessing when it carpeted dangerous terrain.

The Nation was used to this. Pulling his sled of goods for long hours in hell was just another strength exercise testing his stamina and sanity. Throughout the gruelling hours of his travels his main motivation which kept him going was the families waiting for him.

In his mind he counted the times he traveled around Transylvania, trading for new supplies at nearby trade posts like the one near Timisoara. It had probably been four times including today. Alone throughout each journey, he had encountered no one of his kind until now - maybe because he ventured only in his territory?

The most fascinating route Romania took was the way to a trading post, miles south of Budapest where he had just been before he encountered the disturbing crater of bodies, and of course, Hungary. The Nation felt the Hungarian's heavy footprints closing in from behind.

All the respect and well-mannered side in both Nations was once again buried among the rubble of the dead.

"What ho?" Romania exaggerated, in a sarcastic manner. "_Le gasp!_ A frail old lady comes up from behind me! Someone help!" _Of all Nations_, he thought.

He did not need to turn around to see how exasperated she was. He could clearly tell by her noises – the impulsive angry grunting and coughing– she really did not want to follow him. He made sure the frying pan she stole was no where open for an easy grab. "So, you've decided to stalk me?" he asked.

"So jerk, you've decided to care about stalkers?" she snapped mockingly.

He expected the impolite retaliation. Annoying her was quite entertaining. _She'll erupt into a volcanic Magyar sooner or later, _he mused. "Oh, I forgot you were playing Rude."

"I want to play Live-and-I-kick-your-ass."

"Game on!" Romania pulled his sled faster, to make her lag behind. "Sounds like a fun game. Does it come with bonus points? I mean, I had head start…literally."

Trying to catch up to him, Hungary trotted near the end of his sled. "Did I mention that I kick your ass?" she repeated.

"Yes. Yes you did," said Romania, plainly amused at how much she was struggling. Her mask was put on improperly and she was having a hard time speed walking to his pace. He wondered how on earth she even lived this long buried alive in her hole.

"You don't stand a chance against me!" Hungary coughed, lifting her mask to spit out the fluid.

Mocking her even further, the Romanian reached a straight path of his route and started walking backwards, just for the fun of it.

"Says the one who dug herself out of the dead and even _looks_ half dead," he jested. _She looked emaciated, _thought Romania,_ like a walking corpse_…_nasty.._.

The young man turned back around and walked faster. He dragged his sled onwards like it only weighed pillows when in fact it had a heavy load of respiratory masks, jugs of_ţuică__,_ canned goods, fabrics and kitchen supplies, and not to mention the weight of the wood structuring the crates. It was already tough pulling it with no wheels attached. Instead of a cart or a wagon, why did he choose a sled in the first place? Oh yeah, because he wanted to play 'Santa Clause' for the kids. _Oh, Christ. _Romania smirked.

"You know, I can walk this route with no map, Miss Magyar-Muscular-Maid," he chimed with swagger, "and I can walk it in a couple of hours! I have traveled up to your sunken Budapest on dangerously _hardcore_ terrain! And I've endured the darkest smite of Black Magic which plagued this place! Check out my sweet ride of stuff!" Romania looked over his shoulder, showing off his sharp tooth in a grin. "What have you got?"

Hungary fell silent for a long time, not giving an answer. Romania marched on, suddenly conscious of what he just said. He may have gone too far with his joke, and after all, she _did_ lose a lot of what she cared about.

* * *

"Lili, watch out!"

Demons of hopelessness tainted the world after the rapture. The Alpine Mountains, once a powerful and dignified landmark, turned into a prison cell red at its peak and sharpened to bloody daggers.

Nature controlled the world and the world controlled _it_. Humans had their way with both Earth and Nature. But unlike the Earth - which people could dastardly walk upon sometimes - Nature could fight humans, externally and dangerously internally; shape shifting into ghastly creatures from cloudy storms and rain, to emotions like fear and panic. In short, nature was just as unpredictable as the humans; its will unknown and deadly.

In the case of the two young Alpine Nations running down a steep slope of a massacre, Nature was damned despair which corrupted the souls of their men. Genocide clawed their once peaceful mountains and they were trying to escape it.

"Vash!" cried a young girl in a ragged green uniform. She ducked under a dead body to avoid the numerous shots being fired her way.

"Don't, Lili!" A green-eyed Swiss Nation haggardly crouched beside her, keeping his head low. "Lili, get down! We'll pass them soon." Switzerland checked her face for any worrying injuries. His adopted little sister held his hand tightly, listening to every word of his command. "Just keep to my left and when I tell you to run, run with me as fast as you can okay, Liechtenstein?"

"I'm scared, Vash," she sobbed. The screams and painful cries sounded like echoes in the air around them.

"Me too," replied the Alpine, wiping away the blood running down his mouth. "Me too…"

Gun shots fired several times, with every note of his heartbeat. Switzerland did not expect the rebels to behave like this. He could hardly believe how low his people had descended to. How maddened they had become after decades of being relatively peaceful. But that was the past, and now a footnote in history.

Irrepressible soldiers were killing civilians who were trying to escape their anarchic wrath. The mountains became a solid wall caging them, holding them within its middle like claw-like fingers around a palm. Climbing over them was now impossible and the borderline bloodied.

Liechtenstein and Switzerland were among the fray. At first, they followed the crowd of refugees hiking the mountains to escape to Austria - but when the assembled army approached from Zϋrich, the safest route was no longer to follow the fray. Instead they would run downhill, avoid the mountains and head north to Germany. Not to collide with the enemy, they planned to pass them and take advantage of their unguarded perimeters on the north.

Shots continued to fire as the mass of desperate families tried to escape the angry men. The smell of blood, steel and smoke overpowered their noses. Some of the men started to detain wounded prisoners and Switzerland could only hide from the pain and slaughter. The cries of painful suffering wrung his heart.

Switzerland dodged behind a large outcropping of rock. "Lili, you don't know how damned I feel just sitting here and watching!"

"Brother, please!" Liechtenstein begged him to stay put as he was readying his rifle.

She was right, he figured. It was safe to stay low and passive than to launch an attack. It would endanger both of their lives especially his sister's if he were to try and fight the army.

He agonizingly watched the horrific sight of men shooting down their friends, brothers, sisters and children. It was an unbelievable bloody sight of extermination. How could this be? Burying himself lower to the dirt, his heart grieved and the helplessness maddened him. What went so terribly wrong?

He cannot protect them with only a couple of rifles. Besides Liechtenstein, no one was on his side and those who wanted to flee were victimized. It was unbearable to be in the midst of this bloodshed, yet he was there to witness it. Dismay tore his heart; he did not realize how cruel his own people could be.

History geared its way like this and he had been in a similar situation before, but those were entirely different stories set in different battlefields with different individuals. He had other Nations with him then. _The cruelty of mankind is overpowering,_ he thought._ I never thought that I would wish for another Nation to…to help us_.

He remembered the revolts his neighbours had gone through and the help he provided. He could count the times he assisted many Nations in their battles with his Swiss Army and the Red Cross – Feliciano had always been grateful of him during war for Italian unification.

It slightly pained Switzerland to be reminded of the Axis and Allies. Although he had been disinterested of them in the past, he never minded to provide assistance when it also concerned him. Now that his own country was in a state of total discontent he would greatly appreciate any outside help. If there was still_ any _order out there. Alas, there had been no reports from the outside.

Most of the communication lines were either destroyed or had gradually stopped working, so there was barely any way to keep contact with the outside. It was dangerous to send his men out on reconnaissance missions – the majority of them never returned. Assuming the worst, Switzerland had no choice but to keep everyone in, and as it turned out, this was one of the reasons that made his people turn against him.

"Quick!" Switzerland led Liechtenstein to crawl under another fallen body as a portion of the army separated to hunt.

Cautiously, they ducked behind a slope and waited for the men to pass. "Keep well behind me, Lili." He tucked his sister behind him with one arm while his other arm expertly held a rifle.

Both waited for the opportune moment to escape.

Switzerland had always been a peaceful, orderly and neutral Nation, but this massacre turned to the devil's hand and beyond his control, surpassing precedent tribulations. For once, he lost control and he had no idea what to do but protect Liechtenstein and himself.

It was all caused by the earlier months of a tensed Nation. The country survived the earth's grim ordeal but their glorious survival was short lived.

The stern Nation kept everyone within his country's borders to protect them from the outside; little did he know uprisings ignited. One by one, people started to despair and beg for freedom from the mountains, and soon after more and more agreed to the outburst. The state grew agitated as fear devoured their sanity and they started questioning their liberties and rights encased in Switzerland's circle of mountains.

People wanted to go outside and look for any other survivors, but Switzerland held them back for fear of unstable ground past the Alps. His concerns were true and almost unbelievable considering what the Calamity has left behind.

There was a large dividing trench stretching from the Alps to south of Austria and it broke the majority of the European railroad systems. Rivers and large bodies of water were formed on the southern parts of his country which made it difficult to travel to France, Italy or Austria. There were newly-made mountains surrounding the Nation from the recent quake and most of their land was elevated above sea level. It was like Nature had finally given a terrible prize to the country for its centuries of neutrality. Literal Isolation.

Food shortages, electrical bursts, floods and a drained water supply triggered a series of panic throughout the country. For a total of ten weeks, tensions escalated to suffocation until Switzerland finally stood above a podium to speak to his people about reformations. Sadly, his claim for change was instantly misunderstood. He did not anticipate what happened next.

On the day after he spoke, his people spited him and revolted. Rioting and threatening, they demanded for new leaders and after a couple of disastrous days they got what they wished for. An assembled group took over and condemned those against their actions. A bloody chain of events followed and the country started killing itself. In a span of a few desperate months the people maddened and order disintegrated. People turned against each other, authority corrupted and turned violent, criminals ruled, families were made victims and children were hunted. Those who fled hiked over the mountains, viciously climbing over them only to fall to the other side. Surely, the Calamity sent the Alpines down to chaos and disorder.

Switzerland felt the turmoil inside. He held Liechtenstein near him as they crouched low to the sloping ground, careful not to be spotted. "Are you ready to run?" he asked her.

Liechtenstein blinked. Her face was caked with mud and her eyes were red from tears. She struggled to talk yet her throat itched from inhaling the polluted air. "Vash…Mr. Switzerland…do you mean to really run away from here?"

The brotherly Nation felt his heart rip open when he said the words he never thought he would say. "Lili, we have to leave this place. I – I can't explain right now, but it's just that…they will kill us if we stay here….I can no longer handle them right now." Crestfallen, Switzerland took a deep breath before looking straight ahead. "Let's go."

The gun firing finally ended and the bloody armed-men thieved their victims' possessions while others tied up half-dead prisoners. One of the commanders ordered a thorough search for anybody hiding, but by that time Switzerland and Liechtenstein had already disappeared.

* * *

For a short while traveling together, Romania and Hungary did not say anything. At almost at every kilometre there was a foul scent in the air that led them to discover a corpse, either sprawled on the ground or stuffed in a melted car. They wove past a deserted village a little carelessly. Romania constantly reminded Hungary to make as little noise as possible, but she was too stubborn to listen to him.

Eventually, they reached another line of trees. Recognizing a landmark, Romania curved his way around a large overlaying road and they drew near to what seemed like a cliff.

"Where are we?" Hungary tiredly asked behind him. After two hours of silence, she finally spoke and for once it was polite – yet he ignored her anyway.

It was nearing dark and they had traveled for two and a half hours already without stopping. That excludes Hungary's occasional whiney drinking breaks and coughing fits. At least they were at a steady pace, a little slower than he would have liked but they had covered plenty of ground from Szeged.

In her current condition, Hungary should have passed out a while ago and it somewhat surprised him that she made it this far. She was probably healthier that he thought. For him, it had been more than two hours travel; a total of six hours apart from finding Hungary that afternoon.

He would normally walk a maximum of seven hours a day to cover some ground, and - if he was lucky - encounter a working vehicle to use until it runs out of fuel. Romania planned to camp somewhere soon before his legs buckle to exhaustion, like the last time he pushed himself too far.

He wished he could be back to the caves in a time of eight days, but it had been almost two weeks of travel from the nearest town. The last time he sent word to the caves was three days ago. Well, at least he had sent word for his delay and his new course. Hopefully it reached them.

"Under the current circumstances, I will try not to kill you," Hungary suddenly blurted out of pure boredom.

Great. She's going on again. Romania rolled his eyes._ Well, I didn't really answer her a moment ago. I guess I don't mind a silly chat…_

"Ah, true," he jeered. "We are set in this dead wasteland being followed by cannibals, finding dead things here and there and smelling ash-carcass-delights at every corner! Of course! You're right. Under the current circumstances we will try not to kill each other...as much as either of us would really, really, REALLY love to."

At this, Hungary bitterly responded. "I don't have to like you to trust you! Besides, I had no better choice…and what do you mean canni –?"

"Poor Magyar." Romania interrupted with tilted smile. "I'm sure the choice to live is a good choice. Even though you're stuck with someone you hate. Living is still a goody."

Hungary's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Well, I'd be happy to leave you alone," Romania offered. "So long as you are selfish and careless, I'll let you be on your way."

"What makes you think I'll be stupid enough to –"

"Fending for yourself, in your case, is certainly selfish and careless," he pointed out. "I mean, really, have you _seen_ yourself lately? You camouflaged among the dead back there. No wonder a creeper hasn't dug you up. You smell like mouldy food. Worse than the corpses." Romania covered his nose to ridicule and Hungary exploded with fury.

"GO TO HELL, ROMÁNIA!"

"After you!" he laughed, not expecting the Hungarian Nation to punch him in the gut.

She gave him a good knuckle to the stomach and he clutched it laughing. Hungary crossly turned away and resisted the urge to punch him even more. Of course, she would not beat him to death as much as she really wanted to. Not now anyway.

Romania not only knew his way around this 'utopia', he also had many tricks up his sleeve. _Ha, ha! Oh man, do I have to tell her about the boats too?_ He sighed, straightening up from the stomach ache. He started to recall the locations where his hidden boats may be – to keep himself distracted from her annoying Vesuvius wrath.

Yes, he still remembered where he placed them…hopefully his men continued checking up on them. Besides his people, the boats were one of the most precious things at stake for him. He planned to send another message back to Cluj-Napoca, because the longer it takes being away from the caves, the more dangerous it becomes.

All because he changed direction suddenly…all because he thought he would find other Nations. Well he did, but he was so sure it was Bulgaria he sensed near, not Hungary. No matter. He would keep searching. Every day he sensed another Nation's presence in his country and recently, the feeling doubled, it was not just Hungary this time. There was another Nation miles away and he would find him even if it means revealing every secret information to the Magyar…

"Welcome to the bordering land of my country and yours," Romania announced when they reached the edge of the cliff – which was surprisingly not so much of a cliff at all.

It was a road broken in half, largely forming a deep trench opening down to water below. They could see the muddy river and it was a steep and dangerous descent. It was not one of their European rivers; the trench gathered water – most likely from the Danube — and formed a new contaminated stream.

Hungary peered over to see how far the trench went and she shook. "Earthquake?"

"Yeah," he answered, "well, what else does it look like?" Avoiding her glare, Romania pulled his sled to the trees a distance away. He unloaded heavy crates and nested ropes.

She approached him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Hungary grew frustrated and decided not to say much further. Romania securely tied the rope around the sled and looped the other end over a branch of a solidified, blackened tree. As exhausted as he was, he still managed to hoist the sled up to hover above him. Satisfied with its safe height, he did the same for the crates on a separate tree. Of course, Hungary just idled by watching him.

He breathlessly leaned against the trunk below his hanging crates and gave her a sideways glance. Then without a word, he hoisted himself up the tree abandoning her on the ground. Night began to fall and there was no sense to stay on the ground anymore.

* * *

_**Writer's Ramble**_

Reference to Glassamilk's Gutters:

_"Switzerland has fallen into chaos and that the small surviving society there has completely dissolved into violence and human butchery, people stalking each other for resources and food, regardless of where it comes from, and have begun a slow spread into Austria and southern Germany."  
_

_If you notice, I gave you an overdose of description...(A friend of mine is thinking about reading this, and she doesn't know much about Hetalia. Heck, add a couple of descriptive intros here and there. :D)_


	3. Remember, Remember

**3: Remember, Remember**

******(~)**

* * *

Romania was not going to help her up a tree. No harness offered to her, Hungary stood at the trunk, arms on hips, giving him a calculated look. _No. _Hungary shook her head, biting her lower lip. _I will not think of such gruesome ways to kill that ţuică-magic-man. I want answers._

The forest was blackened with soot and the majority of the trees were too tall to climb. It was almost by pure luck that they found a couple of trees in descent shape with thick low lying branches. The tree where Romania settled had a broken branch which served almost like a bridge.

Nature had somehow spared a few forests around the region and it waved to the Romanian's convenience much to Hungary's dismay. _Don't tell me that "Mother Nature" is on his side,_she grumbled. Her throat welled up again and she was forced to cough out more disgusting liquid. When she looked up, Hungary immensely detested the thought of settling anywhere near his roost for the night.

She walked over to another tree a little away from his. The one she chose nested his heavy crates. She hated to admit that he did a fine job hanging them, and she wondered how many times Romania had done this before.

Hungary tested the trunk and staggered to climb.

"I don't want you touchin' that!" Romania protested from his sturdy branch. They tend to ignore each other's comments a lot, so she might as well continue the trend.

Climbing trees was one of her past times in the early years with the Teutonic Knights; she remembered competing against Prussia with this sort of thing. It just felt good to climb again with the memory of a long lost annoying-_dummkopf_-of-a-friend, Hungary weakly smiled.

Romania comfortably settled on his branch, feigning to the ignorance. By the looks of the harness tied around his waist and the sleeping blankets hung on his perch, Hungary could tell that Romania had really slept on rough places before – he was prepared and he was going to have a better sleep! Hungary grumpily continued her climb. _Seriously, how many times has_he_done this recently?_

"Y'know, you won't find my frying pan there," Romania exclaimed, leaning leisurely on his perch, hands laced behind his head. "If you cut off the netted rope around those crates, the food supply would fall and be the main attraction tonight. Also don't think about weighing the branches down, I mean, they're already burnt after all. Oh, and I think your—"

"I don't care!" Hungary coughed in her mask. She mounted to what seemed like a decent branch until it snapped. _**Kkrurk!**_ She crashed to the ground before she could even catch a glimpse of the fracture.

Hungary took off her mask and spat out glowing fluid. Letting the mask dangle around her neck, she recovered herself and brushed off the grey from her pants. Humiliating.

She waited for a snide remark from the Nation above her, but he was unexpectedly silent. Hungary cleared her throat and Romania quickly shushed her. She looked up his tree and found him peering into the distance in high alert.

Something was moving their way…and…it sounded like a pack…of wolves? No. Bears? Couldn't be. Animals had died off during the flashes. Unless they –? No. Not possible. She was just hearing things.

Hungary glanced at the horizon and the sun had disappeared from the gradient nightfall. Her heart started to race. This was her first night outside of her ditch. _Outside_. She did not remember the nights before. Were there nights before…? Where was she then? Something was moving their way. What the –?

A snake slithered along her back, making her jump. She gasped when something caught her arm. A gloved hand covered her mouth to stop her from screaming. She turned to see Romania gesturing her to be quiet, his other hand held a hanging rope that led to his branch – she had mistaken it for a snake.

Hungary shoved his hand away, harshly whispering, "I'm not going to your silly tree! There are plenty of branches that I can –"

"_Nu este timp_!" he rushed.

She noticed he had his mask off and she was looking straight at his two anxious burgundy eyes. Hungary took the opportunity to smack him hard until his head turned to the side.

"I want my frying pan," Hungary hissed in a demanding tone.

Romania winced at the pain in his cheek. Quickly composing himself, he faced her. "First of all, _Ouch?_ Second of all: are you seriously doing this NOW? And thirdly – and more importantly –" he furiously motioned at the distant beating somewhere and then the tree – "Branch or Corpse-Eating-Hairy-Men?! Take your pick!"

_What!?_

Hungary put aside her questions and complied. The incoming rumbles drew nearer. She hastily climbed to Romania's perch and left dusty footprints on his folded sleeping blanket. _Consider it another small act of kindness,_she thought hysterically.

Romania mounted up beside her, harness still tied around his waist. He glanced at her mess and scowled.

Satisfied, Hungary pulled the climbing rope up so no one from below could reach them. She checked on the crates and the sled which hung on the separate trees nearby. They were high enough to be out of reach but the trees could still be climbed if someone was that desperate to reach them.

They waited for the sound to draw nearer. Romania unsheathed two loaded pistols out of nowhere, and Hungary was certain he was glimmering with delight.

The noise drew closer until it finally stopped at a distance where they could clearly see them. Hungary could see dark shapes crouching, looking tired from the run. The figures were huddled close and something about them seemed…inhuman. They were armed with what looked like spears and heavy mallets. Hungary wanted to see them clearer to know what they truly look like under bright light. But a flame or flashlight would jeopardize their cover.

The figures shuffled aside, allowing one of them stepped forward. Hungary could see that this one in particular was their superior – given way by his bulky, chiefly shape. The Chief smelled the air in silence and spoke a few words to his tribe. His words were muffled from the distance, and suddenly, she felt her heart seize when the murmuring man pointed his spear straight in their direction.

In unison, the group started chanting something strange. It sounded like they were reciting the man's orders. Hungary could barely comprehend what they were saying.

Turning to their tree, the group bolted towards them. Their Chief led the way, his spear flashing white as bone. In seconds, they were so close now, running up to their tree like Neanderthals in tattered rags, carrying their primitive weapons. Their eyes were hollow and sunken with starvation, their muddied faces and gaping mouths displayed the very hunger in their souls. Romania loaded his pistols and aimed. Hungary braced for the erratic booms of the flying bullets, and yet as Romania fired, the bullets made very little noise.

"Have a taste of my _Dracula md. 98s_," whispered Romania, gleefully shooting a bullet at one who was reaching for their trunk. Before they could even touch their tree, he shot one after another, muttering "Take that…And that..."

The group did not even try to dodge his bullets. They were hurling their crude spears at them like rabid animals. She saw one fly to Romania who dodged it in a millisecond.

He laughed. "Did you know these pistols have upgraded sound suppressors? Ah, my beloved _Pistolul model 1998…_" the Romanian conceited. "So old, yet still – " _Pew!_ – "ha, ha! Handy." _Pew!_ _Pew!_ "See, a friend of mine from the Romanian Intelligence Service – you know the guys who take down terrorists at my place? Yeah, in short form they're called the R.I.S. and he got this–"

"You will R-I-P if you don't finish them off!" snapped Hungary, a small, well-aimed rock hit her on the temple the moment she yelled at him. Romania laughed wildly as she fingered the growing bump on her head.

As much as she wanted to snatch one of Romania's so-called Dracula pistols – and shoot Romania and the mongrels herself – she refrained from doing so and focused on dodging anymore pathetic spears and rocks. She just had had enough humiliations tonight.

Hungary curved away from another spear, almost nudging Romania to miss a target. _How is_he_not getting hit at all?_She wondered.

Romania was calmly shooting and effortlessly tilting away from every boney weapon thrown at him.

_That jerk!_Hungary crossed her arms and ranted in her mind, resisting the urge to push him off the tree. At last, one by one, the ground bloodied until the Chief of the tribe was the only one left standing.

The two Nations waited for the gruff man to do something. He blinked up at their tree then down at his fallen comrades. Not a moment later, he staggered to the nearest body and started – _disgusting. _Hungary felt her stomach lurch at the sickening sight. She grasped the tree trunk beside her as a wave of nausea rent her body.

The man's bony fingers scratched and scratched at the corpse's face. Bits of bloody flesh were torn, but it was not enough for him to chew. He used his spear to mutilate one's throat to feast on the soft tissues. The man nipped hungrily at every morsel covered in bloody gravy.

As the Chief ripped open the corpse's jugular, Hungary impatiently urged Romania to shoot him dead before the sight becomes too gory to deal with, but the Romanian was putting away both of his guns.

"What are you doing?!" she whispered angrily at the Nation. "What are you waiting for?! I don't want to see this!"

"One second," Romania calmly replied. He fished out a gold studded dagger from one of his inner coat pockets. "Let him have a light snack before he – you know – gets killed and all… And I didn't know you'd get all excited for this."

What did he mean by 'excited'? Hungary's attention turned to the dagger that he held expertly by the blade. _Crap, he has a dagger too?_ She envied. "How did you –? Where did you get that?_"_

Romania gleamed. "I stole it." He focused his eyes at the man eating below them.

Hungary scowled.

"The guy was dead, so he had no say on the matter!" laughed Romania, angling the dagger hilt to its target. "I found it somewhere south of Bistrita and I think this may have been from one of Moldova's men. But that's a long story. I'm sure you're not interested." In a blink, he threw it.

The blade flashed, cutting through the air and striking the cranium of the Chief. The man looked up at them and mumbled his final words. Repentance.

Hungary was struck deeply inside when she heard him very clearly, as if he said it so close to her.

His repentance.

She understood his language completely. Hungary placed a shaky hand to her head, hiding her face in shame. She felt like she was the one who was pierced by the blade.

Romania wore no expression. He had known all along and he tried to tell her earlier; she did not want to believe it.

The man he killed...was a Magyar.

* * *

Switzerland found nothing in his radios that gave him any signs of life outside his borders. There were no spikes. No sudden influx of interference. The occasional malfunctions of the radio frustrated him, making him think someone was out there. He considered the fact that maybe there were no other radios working outside.

He grunted at the device. It was too valuable to break as it was one of the last surviving electronics. He had been carrying it with a supply of batteries everyday after scouring his old office and it was one of the most precious things he kept secret. He just needed something. Something to remind him that there _had_ been better times than this.

"Is there something wrong?" Liechtenstein asked quietly. She clamped her suitcase shut and carried it by her side. She was breathing very hard and her words were mere mumbles.

She looks a little frail. Switzerland dismissed the idea. _She's not ill._ _It's just dimly lit in here to see clearly_, he figured. Besides, he made sure they feasted on healthy rations.

"Nothing's wrong," uttered the Swiss, before putting away the radio and rechecking their supplies. Looking around the dingy, cramped bunker one last time he led his sister to the exit. "We've got everything, right?"

"Yes," she ghostly replied, blinking her large, hollow eyes at him.

"Map?"

"Yes, Vash."

"Okay." He hesitated for a moment longer before slinging his rifle in front of him and ascending the ladder.

The moment Switzerland peered over the entrance, his eyes squinted from the rays of late morning light. Once he adjusted, he strolled around the area to make sure no one was near. When he gave the all clear, Liechtenstein climbed up after him.

It was their last stop in his country now that they were nearing the German border. Four days passed since the genocide, and fortunately they had made it this far north without encountering anyone dangerously armed. Whoever had discovered them along the way, Switzerland had eliminated with no mercy.

He helped his sister to her feet when she exited the opening, her suitcase held tightly around one arm. "You shouldn't climb a ladder with one arm," he said to her. "You might slip."

She softly giggled. "You climbed it while holding your rifle, dear _bruder._"

"Yeah, well…" Switzerland took a stride. "Just don't do that again. You should be more careful." He started forward – a smiling Liechtenstein close by his side, like a trailing shadow.

He kept reminding himself that he was abandoning the safe bunker to protect her. Switzerland was leaving his own country of chaos so she could live…

And find someone to help them…if there was still anybody out there…

* * *

"Too bad, so sad. I had to do it!" Romania exclaimed. He picked out his dagger from the dead man and sprayed enough potent chemicals all over the corpses to conceal the scent of blood. He quickly pulled them aside and drenched the rest of the area with the chemicals.

The chemicals were a mix of distilled liquids, solutions like phenol and formalin, and –weirdly enough– soap. Sweet smelling soap was somehow unattractive to those who seek rotting flesh. Who would eat soap, anyway?

Romania looked over his crafty work and puffed with content. _To avoid any more of these ruffians tonight, I'll spray some of this on the Magyar_, he pondered. _She will like this pungent fragrant. Ha, ha! They do say the bitter, the better._

"They were hungry, you idiot!" The Hungarian argued from above, still perched on his tree branch. "You had proper food, why did you not feed them or something?"

"That's like feeding seabirds!" Romania lowered his rising voice. "They'll come back for more until you run out!" Using his harness, he mounted up his tree to grudgingly rejoin her.

"I see you haven't changed your ways," she said.

Annoyed, Romania did not like where this was going, so he tried changing the subject. "I hope you have any brains at all to know that you should keep quiet! Though I bet there won't be anymore of them coming this way tonight." Romania squirted the potent chemical in front of her and she winced.

"You had food!" The other Nation quarreled, waving off the bitter spray. "Why did you not –? Wait – what else did you need? Is it because of money?"

"Magyar –"

"Too slow to keep up food production? You could have looked to Russia! Or Austria – or – "

"Mag– "

"Look at you! You're healthier than me! Your people must have survived so well, why didn't you see _this_coming? I was buried! You should have at least provided something for _my_ people! Your neighbours! You've got guns and daggers and I didn't know that cannibalism could get this –"

"Hungary!"

"I am talking!" she yelled at him. Perplexed, Romania almost fumbled backwards.

They both turned away, somehow frightened by one another. It was not surprising that Hungary was furious with _him_ in particular – blaming him and all. For so long she was a splenetic person to him, but never this unpredictable and desperate. He feared her and by the looks of it, she feared him too.

She was going to discover the cannibals sooner or later and Romania had dropped palpable hints when he first encountered her. He even mentioned it to her! He realized that she had not really asked him – _pestered_him – about it until now.

They had found enough carcasses in her country to make solid conclusions. Romania supposed she had been purposely ignoring what was really there. _She has been denying it all along, _he chuffed.

Romania settled in his sleeping bag before he safely hid away his dagger.

"You couldn't deal with it until the bloody truth died in front of you," he said to her, transparently. He folded his legs to avoid booting the Hungarian before him – not that he really cared. He prodded the Nation with his dirty boots. "Hey, it's getting late, and I just want to have my beauty sleep!"

Expecting an insulting retort from her, he was surprised she remained silent. Hungary seemed vacant, staring out into the dark. Her mask was off and he could really see hollowness on her face from the hunger and exhaustion she suffered.

Romania placed his elbows on his folded knees. "Can you shift forward a little? I want to stretch my _healthy_ legs."

Finally she snapped. "What? You left Dracula's coffin somewhere? Why are you not sleeping on _that_?" Their branch slightly drooped as Hungary wobbled up to stand, and in a nimble fashion, she inched her way to another solid trunk bridging from his.

_Back to this lovely mood again_, he thought bitterly. He watched her walk nimbly across the thick branch to the other tree.

"Fly away little temperamental Magyar," Romania contested. He cleaned his bloodied dagger with a rag and shoved it back in his coat. "Remember, I can easily clip your fragile chicken wings."

Hungary shot him a poisonous glare and roosted on her chosen branch a few feet across him.

Narrowing her eyes, she faced him with crossed arms and growled. "You childish asshat, what else is there besides the Hungarian cannibals? You haven't told me everything I need to know!"

Romania hissed. "You ungrateful brat. Do you need sleeping pills or something?"

"Idiot," she barked.

"Whiney!"

"Gypsy…"

His eye twitched. "Don't you dare go there, Magyar."

"Devil!"

"I'm warning you..." Romania agonizingly resisted the urge to throw his blade at her.

Hungary twisted a corner of her mouth. "_Vlad_."

Severely irritated, Romania tightened his fists and exhaled. "I don't need you alive, you little witch! I will wring your neck in the morning."

"Oh _Romani_," Hungary sneered with every bit of venom her words. "Bite me."

_ She's gone too far! _Romania deliberated. Why was he still keeping her around? He no longer cared! He never had! Well, maybe he did, but not anymore!

_Who am I kidding?_

He took out one of his pistols. Right now, she was powerless and he could easily shoot her down the tree.

_That's it, that's right!_

He readied the gun and aimed it straight at her. Hungary did not flinch, she simply waited for him. They looked dead straight at each other's eyes, waiting for one or the other to make a move.

_Good bye, whiney little brat_.

His hand did not shake from the trigger and all he needed was the final move with one finger.

_Oh, come on, I'm hesitating?! She's gonna think I'm weak! When she's dead I won't need to reveal all of my boats and trails! I'll find Bulgaria myself and much sooner! Do I still need her?! Duh. She insulted me in the past and she will insult me forever. It's annoying. I remember what happened long ago! I remember, remember! _

He saw Hungary blink – his gun did not waiver.

_She took so many things away from me. But then again, how am_I_any_different_? And if she's dead, there goes a surviving Nation I've found who may be able to help, and she maybe one of the only ones left. Argh, cabbage rolls. _

Romania gradually cleared his mind and withdrew; his heated eyes still piercing hers.

_Insults are not strong enough to make me kill her like this – even if we had this cursed grudge for years. Now is not the time to end each other's lives so quickly…_

If her death was because of an idiotic insult, then where was the honour of killing her in that? It would be very imbecilic on his part. He needed a better cause to 'kick-her-ass' in this kind of game.

_Stupid conscience,_he thought angrily, putting away the pistol and his mouth crooked from the silent defeat.

Surprisingly, Hungary remained impassive. Either she did not fear death or she knew that he was not going to shoot her after all. She was damn strong.

_I hate this Magyar_, he fumed.

"I see," sighed the Hungarian Nation. Romania was not sure if she sighed out of relief or disappointment. She stretched out her arms and yawned. "Describe yourself as either weak or just plain idiotic. I will say both but I'll let you pick."

They continued to dagger each other with glares; both waiting for the other to make a sudden move. The pure loathing was so obvious; anyone from a distance could see it by their tensed body language. If they go on like this, none of them would go to sleep! One of them had to surrender to finally get some much needed rest. Staying up so late would make them both hungry and tired to move on the next day.

"You are either happy or upset from the fact I didn't kill you just now," Romania snorted.

Hungary wore a smug grin. "Ah, so you are an idiot?"

"And you seem happy," he recoiled. "Happy moving on without your cursed German friends."

He hit another boiling point in Hungary. Her vacant expression returned and her smugness disappeared. She gave no reply for a long moment. "I demand you to give me answers," she said after a heavy pause. "Tell me everything right now or I will degrade you even further."

Romania was not going to yield so easily. "As much as we want to continue being detrimental towards each other, Magyar, could one of us have some rest first? I assure you that I might – depending on my mood – provide all the answers tomorrow morning. How 'bout that? Don't worry so much; I'm sure you'll live that long."

Hungary shook her head. "I am not sleeping while you're awake!"

"Whatever!" Romania did not want to give in, but he needed rest. "You keep watch then!" He broke their glare-down and tossed to one side, cozily wrapped in his sleeping bag. "No sense in trying to kill me tonight, I'm way too valuable."

"Shut up and go to sleep!"

He looked over his shoulder. "You know how a watch goes right? Like, you wake me up when you start dozing off?"

"I said, shut up and go to sleep!"

Romania closed his eyes. It was amusing to annoy the hell out of her. The insults just get way off hand sometimes. But if he was going to let her tag along for a while, he might as well have some kind of fun.

He heard Hungary sigh after another coughing fit. He wondered how comfortable she was sleeping against the scorched tree bark without a sleeping bag or blanket. He had a hilarious thought of her covered in soot the next morning.

Romania pretended to sleep for what felt like hours. A long moment passed when the silence was broken by a stifled sob from Hungary, and he strained to hear what she had to say. "I just want to know where he is…" she whispered softly to herself. "How did things come to this? When did my own people turn like this?"

Randomly, Romania wanted to joke in a sleepy murmur. "Shuuut uuuup. I gooo tooo sleep."

"Go to sleep or I'll sing you a suicidal lullaby!" Hungary furiously threatened.

_I choose sleep._ Romania snickered one more time before he dozed to a light slumber. He did not fancy a suicidal lullaby and he definitely did not want to hear Hungary sing. _I could barely handle her talking already._

Snoring, Romania wondered what it was like in her perspective. As much as he wanted to make her life a living hell, it had to be maddening to know very little of this so-called wonderland. He enjoyed being the enigmatic and knowledgeable one in the matter, but if he was going to carry on like this it would not bode well for both of them – him, especially if he was going to find any signs of Bulgaria. Romania decided he would tell her the truth tomorrow, before things get any worse.

He would finally tell her _everything_ straight forwardly and informatively. Romania had put her in the dark for so long purposely for a couple of reasons; one: to his advantage, and two: to stay alive. He thought it would be easy to keep one oblivious to his agenda; like how he was with his men. But this was Elizaveta; the embodiment of Hungary.

If she know everything that was going on, she would be dangerous to him. She might kill him the next day and leave with all the information she needed. And if he leaves her clueless, she would probably go mad and 'psycho', badgering him for the truth. He figured a compromise instead.

_Damn it,_he shuddered, _this game is getting a bit more complicated._

Sleep did not come to him until he reached a final decision that night. It was a choice he prepared for the next morning.

* * *

The long trek uphill was exhausting; Switzerland tired himself out until he could barely take another step. His younger sibling trailed behind carrying a canteen of water and a second rifle. He made sure he carried her suitcase throughout most of the journey. He did not want her burdened with heavy things on top of walking for miles; he also ignored her insistent wishes to volunteer and share the load.

Earlier, they had spent the morning descending from the mountainous terrain of his country, and by noon they reached leveled ground.

The path they had ventured through was one of the paths Switzerland used for his messengers. Although the men he had sent out never returned, a hidden path like this meant a passable escape anyway. The path was undiscovered by the rebels because it was densely hidden.

They found a dying motor boat docked near by for emergencies. The boat was used months ago for Liechtenstein's arrival and Switzerland relocated it, hiding it in this particular place ever since.

After loading the boat, they silently made way along the unusually expanded Rhine, and by then the motor died. Switzerland paddled the rest of the way; by late afternoon they reached the end of Lake Constance on German soil. Paranoid of spies or followers, Switzerland destroyed the boat and paddle the moment they were on shore. He basically eliminated the last safe path to his beloved homeland.

Tired to the bone, Switzerland found an empty truck for them to camp for tonight. _So far and yet still a long way to go_, he thought, settling comfortably in the truck with his sister. His eyes glued to the only map they had and with a shaky finger under the dim, light of a candle stub, he traced a route to Berlin. Or maybe they should navigate through to Munich? Or Leipzig, instead? Surely, there had to be someone they might find now that they are out here. The 'outside'.

Switzerland huddled beside his sleeping sister. She coughed for a moment and he worriedly checked her forehead for any signs of fever. She was unexpectedly cold and her raspy lungs heaved for clean air. Switzerland's nose itched and his eyes stung; he quickly rummaged through his bag for emergency supplies.

The outside air was entirely more extreme compared to the air cooped within his country's borders. Out here, there is more ash, he surveyed. _Harsher than I predicted._It would be hard to find a city inhabited; the locals might either be dead or up further north.

Switzerland wanted to find a better mode of transportation fast, before one of them gets sick from the toxicity of the air.

_Lili's not used to this_.

Switzerland fished out his black scarf and swim goggles from his pack. He prodded Liechtenstein to put them on and she did not argue. She handled the mask tiredly and slowly shifted her gaze from him to space.

_She's just drowsy,_ thought the Swiss Nation. Rather than putting on a pair of goggles he just unraveled another scarf and wove it around his nose and mouth. He was more concerned for his sister than his own breathing condition.

Switzerland shifted and gently kept his hand by his rifle. He blew out the candle and watched the smoke diffuse into the air. Finally feeling secured, he fell to a deep slumber.

Morning dawned so fast, his eyes still feel heavy. Switzerland rolled over to check on his sister.

The truck seat was empty. There was a depression on the seat next to him, telling him that she had disappeared seconds ago. He started for his rifle but it was no where to be seen. Frantically he searched for their bags and luggage. They were gone from where he hid them. Nothing. The truck was emptied and Liechtenstein was no where to be seen.

Immediately, he bolted out of the vehicle, thinking she had wandered off. There was no movement around their camp's perimeter. _But she could not have gotten so far!_ His mind flashed to the thought of a kidnap, his eyes grew wide in panic.

_ Shit. No, no, no. Why did I sleep? Why? Why did I –_

He tripped. Switzerland calmed down for a moment and regained his footing. Thick wheel tracks grooved along where he tripped, the trail pooled with fresh blood. A bloody truck had stolen his sister away.

_No, no, no._

"Brother!" His sister's voice echoed in his mind. Switzerland gasped for air before the ground hit his face.

He opened his eyes and felt his chest pressed against a rifle, his legs were bruised by a sudden fall. He was half-way out the door of the truck, face planted on the dirt. Switzerland rolled over to face the sky. Liechtenstein was peering over the truck's seat.

She gave him a look of concern. "Brother, you fell! I think you had a nightmare!"

Switzerland promptly got up and petted his sister. He sighed with rigid relief.

She's here and safe, thank goodness. He checked their belongings and everything in the truck was unmoved. He looked around the perimeter to see if the bloody tracks were real.

Nothing.

Thank goodness, it was just a dream. Not a vision. Just a dream._A nightmare._

Returning to his stoic self, they hastily decamped. Liechtenstein did not question the sudden burst of speed, nor did she complain. Switzerland skipped breakfast and gave his portion to her. He wanted to get away from the site as soon and as far away as possible. Maybe it was because of the dream.

At a distance they walked cautiously along the road to Friedrichshafen. The ground was uneven and many parts were split open, some bits of the road overlapped and tilted. They were mostly descending at a downward tilt. Their descent was quicker, but all the more dangerous with rubble greeting them at every step of the way.

They encountered crumbled buildings and deserted homes. Apart from looking like a destroyed battleground, the place was desolate and eerily quiet. Nobody was around and they found no traces of life anywhere.

Switzerland paid little attention to the sorry sites. He was more occupied with Liechtenstein's safety and the road ahead. He made sure that they rested at safe areas and that they paced steadily to keep track of their breathing. He did not like the air so much. In fact, he didn't like where they were at all.

The trek was dangerous but at least he found it safer than back at the Alpine mountains right now. He missed his mountains dearly, he had abandoned many innocent lives to suffer, and with every stride, he tortured himself with blame.

He kept reminding himself everything would go back to the way it was. _I can't endanger Lili,_he kept thinking_._Uncertain of the future, Switzerland dismissed further thoughts of his country and focused on the path ahead.

After three days traversing through city of Friedrichshafen, Switzerland intended to go even further north to Ravensburg. They did not find any civilians yet and whoever they encountered were either dead or decomposing. At one street, the dead sprawled everywhere, enough to make him blindfold his sister and lead her out of the disturbing sight.

For every step they make Switzerland would perk up at the smallest rustle; harmless or not. He did not trust anything or anyone out here.

He kept his rifles in check and he would always have one held tightly. They carried an ample amount of ammunition and their food supply was plentiful. Liechtenstein even carried luxurious items such as a doll, ribbons, small pillows, candles, an extra dress and blouse, unused shoes, pencils and a sketchbook. For him, aside from the weaponry and pocket knives, he carried maps, blankets, medicine, and money – in case of trade; he also carried jewelry and figurines.

The growing problem they had was their water supply. It was rationed mostly to his sister and Switzerland constantly checked on her for any breathing problems. He basically paid little attention to his own needs.

"Um…Vash?" she said one afternoon. "I understand you're worried, but could you please eat and look after yourself too…?"

Switzerland blankly returned her gaze and said, "No."

They were settled by an empty road for a midday lunch and as usual that the Swiss Nation was busy overseeing things. On a melted car, he had his rifle ready, his eyes surveyed the horizon.

"Lili, finish eating. I don't trust this road," he said quickly.

His sister giggled until she coughed. "Dear _bruder_, you don't trust any road. We have traveled this far and I am glad that your precautions and alertness have served us well, but –" she timidly held out a cold sandwich to him – "may you stay healthy?"

Switzerland reluctantly received it and told her that he would give the rest of the food to her later. The moment he turned away from his watch, there was something emerging from the horizon. Switzerland almost choked on the sandwich when he aimed his rifle towards the incoming figure.

"Lili, get behind me, now!" He sounded as if the figure had already pounced on them. Liechtenstein dropped what she was doing and climbed up the melted vehicle to join him. He motioned her to stay low. Switzerland ducked down to avoid being spotted as the figure drove along the road.

It was a military truck and by the apparent abuse of the wheels, torn canvas top and rickety noise, the truck was driving to its gradual end. The drivers were well-suited and armed. Behind them was a load of tired passengers with no proper clothing against the midday heat.

When the truck drove by closer, Liechtenstein gasped. Switzerland felt her tug his arm, but he did not look away from the slow moving vehicle. She whispered something to him, but he clumsily pushed it aside thinking that she was just frightened. She repeated herself again a little louder and more urgent.

Switzerland followed her gaze. Liechtenstein made him search among the exhausted passengers individually as the truck drove pass. Her sister had probably imagined one of them as her friend and he dismissed it as a mistake. When he closely eyed who it was among the passengers the second time to confirm, his eyes widened. Sure enough, there was another Nation amongst them.

Switzerland's mind raced, coming up with extravagant strategic rescues, yet he hesitated. He watched the truck leave behind black tracks along the road as it drove away. He turned to his sister and faltered. "I'm sorry, it's not safe."

Liechtenstein scowled at this. "I know you don't know her as much, but Vash, we can't just let her go! The truck might be taking her somewhere dangerous!"

"It's none of our business." He turned away. It was too risky and he kept remembering his nightmare.

"Please, don't refuse, brother," pleaded Liechtenstein. "She's one of us! A Nation! I thought you'd be happy to find someone like us! She needs our help! And…we need her, too..."

He gave one more glimpse at the Nation in the truck before it eased away.

It was Belgium, unrecognizable by her matted state. Her green uniform stained with blood, cheeks smudged with soot, dirty blonde-brown hair covered part of her stern face and her green headband was missing.

Belgium sat among the passengers, her brother Netherlands was not among them. She looked uneasy but glowing with health compared to the men and women beside her. Maybe it was a personified Nation's trait to be aglow over humanity. Maybe it was just her looking apprehensive yet lustrous with hope and grit. Whatever it was, she contrasted from the tired faces.

Switzerland glanced back at Liechtenstein with an unreadable expression. They left the melted car and headed for the shadows to stealthily pursue the truck. He planned to save her, as soon as possible. However, he could not shake away the nightmare that might come true.

* * *

** _Writer's silly-said__-rambles:_**

_Nu este timp_! (Romanian for: "There's no time!")

* * *

_Pistolul model 1998 _also known as **_Dracula _**

_"__a machine pistol designed and manufactured by Uzina Mecanică Sadu of Romania. It was designed in 1998 and since 2003 this weapon has been used by __Brigada Antitero Bucureşti_ (Bucharest Anti-terrorist Brigade) of the Romanian Intelligence Service." _- _quoted from Wikipedia

* * *

Note on **CANNIBALISM**:

I understand that it takes YEARS to develop such a disease and from this perspective *points at her own fanfic* it's rather unbelievable in a span of, say, four months. I've been troubled by the timeline several times, too after looking it over and over and over again for possibilities. OTL

I wrote on such a subject to do what was mentioned in Glassamilk's Gutters:  
_"...Waterlogged bodies in Croatia. **Cannibals **in Hungary. Seemingly endless sink holes in Slovenia..."_

So, to support both of our "strange theories" I will say that the cannibalism got so extreme instantly because of limited water supply, destroyed farmlands, dead animals/livestock, and disease. (No not Zombie disease, xD. As mentioned previously, the people resorted to their "tribal" ways. Not zombie ways...I hope.)

* * *

Chapter Title from: V for Vandetta by Alan Moore (Awesome movie and graphic novel. I highly recommend to anyone who likes a take on WWIII )


	4. Eyes Cold as Ice

**4: Eyes Cold as Ice**

_"In much knowledge there is also much grief." - Queen Marie of Romania (1875-1938)_

* * *

_ "Hungary…Hungary…"_

Her back was aching from the uncomfortable rest. She sat up and allowed her legs to dangle from the pale, textured branch. She was weary, her heavy eyes squinting at a dawn. It was early, and a voice called to her ever so softly. It sounded like her name. Was it her country?

Hungary rubbed her eyes and looked over to where Romania slept. He was still wrapped up in his nest of blankets, hat peeking over. _ I swear I am seriously hearing things_, she thought, stretching her limbs. She felt good this morning. Unusually refreshed and rejuvenated with no trace of hunger or thirst in her mouth. She tasted her lips and felt fresh morning dew against them.

Above her, blue water droplets dripped down to her hair and face as she looked up to welcome them. The Nation clambered down the tree trunk and landed quietly on the soft laden earth. Leaves crunched underneath her bare feet and the voice called again.

_ "Hungary…Hungary…"_

This time, it was closer. Hungary walked over to where Romania placed the carcasses from last night's ordeal. Wait a minute – nothing was there but autumn leaves. _Leaves?_ Where was all the ash? Hungary glanced back at the tree where she had just climbed down. It was still there beside another tree, both were rich in colour and…alive. _Alive?!_

Hungary's heart started beating faster. The other trees faded and were replaced by colourfully red and orange ones. Deep inside, she felt the need to wake up, but her curiosity bested her to stay a while. How bad could this be? She was not in the grey and blackened landscape, but in a beautifully decorated autumn setting. Romania was nowhere to be seen and she breathed happily in this place. All to herself! When she twirled with the breeze a white dress enrobed her in velvet, making her ever more light-headed with ecstasy. Hungary let her mind at ease, taking in the sweet gentle wind weaving around her body like a vine.

_ "Hungary…Hungary…"_

The Nation felt the disturbance and almost jolted at the sight of a red-eyed little boy before her. She took a cautious step back but when she recognized who it was, she relaxed. "Gilbert?"

The child grinned playfully, blinking his beady red-purple eyes up at her as he stepped closer with his bare toes. He had on his old Teutonic white garment, the cross embellished on his chest. Hungary was entranced by how vivid he looked. She almost went up to him when a thought struck her. _Am I dead? Romania killed me! I knew it. That jerk, killed me in my sleep!_

A chilling wave ran through her the moment the boy's fingers made contact with her own; he tugged her to follow him but she was too dazed to move.

The Prussian looked up at her and made an impatient noise. "_Geez, just hurry up and follow me already, silly girl-boy!_"

Hungary smiled, before glancing back to where her tree stood. Nothing was there anymore, but a vast expanse of autumn leaves lit by the waking dawn, so she let the boy lead her away.

The little Gilbert pulled her through a gradually changing forest. They reached a versicoloured garden with more kinds of flowers and plants than Hungary could name. Passing through, she held out her fingers to feel the dew covered silky petals of each vivid flower. Finally Gilbert halted in front of a tall splendid window hovering above their trail, like it clung to an invisible wall. Where the window floated, the garden ended to dirt.

"_Don't tell me you're scared of a floating vwindow,_" chuckled the boy. Hungary rolled her eyes.

"Forgive me," said a familiar voice through the window pane, making her jolt.

Anxious, Hungary peered through the glass hoping to find…_Austria__?_

Pass the window, a recognizable scene was illustrated. There was a black grand piano in the midst of a regal interior of only the finest décor. It was hard not to smile at the familiar Austrian pacing around.

The Nation wore his usual dark indigo suit and he seemed to be rehearsing a few words. Hungary knocked on the window glass to get his attention, but something was terribly wrong. Her hands felt nothing; they were transparent and ghostly, going straight through the window without making contact. She returned to watch her disgruntled friend on the other side as the scene unfolded.

"Hungary, I know you might not listen to me when it concerns them," said Austria. He fixed his glasses and sat on a chair. "But I assure you they will be taken care of. I am sorry but zhere was not much I could do. I believe I panicked and I – "

"Hey, Austria!" An albino man threw the doors open with pompous confidence. He was wearing his usual German blue military and his devious smile. "I see someone's got another dirty little secret?" Austria made no comment.

Prussia laughed and turned to different matters at hand. "Anyvays! Still got zhat needle whatchamacalit? I want to tell West about it! Seriously, we're being jackasses not sharing any of zhis shit."

"NO!" Austria stood up, he blared inhumanly more than necessary. "You've asked that several times already! I've had enough, Prussia! It is none of his business and I told you that I've made very little of this. No one else must know, only Hungary and I!" Austria rubbed his temples. "And unfortunately _you_."

"Fine, fine, fine!" Prussia submitted with a dramatic sigh. "I get it. You killed your frickin' scientists just so you can keep it to yourself, you've told us already, sheesh. You said it best, but I didn't think you were _that_ much of a selfish _dummkopf_!"

The Austrian Nation impatiently murmured something about side effects, but he disregarded them and cleared his throat with poise. "State your business, Gilbert."

Prussia unsheathed a pen and hastily unfolded a piece of paper. "Just tell me if your division is ready to be transported over to my place."

"Yes," replied Austria. "I have arranged a line of men from Linz to Braunau. Zhey should be arriving at your checkpoint shortly. The trains are loaded with – "

"Yeah, yeah, zhey're loaded with snobby Austrians coming to my place, I got it." Prussia scribbled something down and looked up at him. "Vhat time is it?"

"Do you mean how much time we have _left_?"

"Yeah."

Austria looked at his watch. "Almost a quarter past eleven, why? I am sure we have plenty more time to –"

Prussia swore under his breath. "We should be heading out now – as in – seriously – now!" He marched towards the door; Austria followed closely, asking for a reason.

Prussia lowered his tone. "West told me Japan's status. It was not healthy. Zhe Nations are a little anxious of an unexpected – " he was cut off mid-sentence. They felt the ground rumble beneath. "Yeah…zat."

The two men steadied their footing as a louder growl from the earth erupted. A crack split the marble floor and continued up the wall, portraits tilted and a vase fell to pieces. The sound clattered as if a signal to leave.

Austria wobbled from the quake beneath. "This is rather strange," he said, glancing at the other German. "I thought we will receive the shocks much later today! I planned to talk to Hungary about –"

He broke off as the ground suddenly shot up, taking them by surprise. The abrupt elevation sent them crashing to the ground, knocking the wind out of their lungs.

Prussia grinned from the sudden adrenaline rush. "Shocking isn't it?" he said to the Austrian, who was picking himself up, fixing his glasses and brushing off dust from his coat.

They ran for the door but the floors suddenly tilted them away from it. Every window – even the one where Hungary was looking through – shattered as wind and dust buffeted angrily outside. Screams were heard and the ground erupted again with another growl, this time it tilted the floor higher, making the door unreachable for the two Nations. They both crashed to the sinking end. Furniture collided against them, the piano narrowly missing Austria.

"I think it is best we leave now," suggested the Austrian, alarmed.

Prussia scanned for an escape. "You think?!" he yelled. "Let's f*cking get out of here! Vhere's Hungary?"

Hungary pulled away from the broken windowsill, startled by the mention of her name. Walls suddenly solidified around the window, framing a gorgeous mansion. It instantly disappeared in a mere blink, revealing a staircase leading straight to their doorway. Thinking it pointless to climb the steps, she veered pass little Gilbert to go around the floating window for a shortcut.

She rammed against an invisible wall and bruised herself. She scowled at the smiling little boy and ran for the steps. Apparently, she could not take shortcuts in this weird state. Right when she reached the door, Prussia and Austria looked at her like she was a burning flame.

Hungary noticed her dress drastically changed into the wrinkled uniform she remembered wearing that day... She felt a pull forward to reach for her friends in distress. Something was controlling her into the memory like a puzzle piece fitting in.

Careful not to fall in with them as the earth jolted again, Hungary called out. "Roderich! Gilbert! I need a rope or –"

"Curtains!" Austria cried out. "As much as I don't want us to ruin zhe drapery –"

"Just take zem down already! I don't think you'll need curtains after the apocalypse!" Prussia exclaimed, who jumped to the nearest window, and tore off the drapes with a powerful swing.

Austria did the same. "These were imported," he sighed.

The Prussian quickly snatched it from him and started knotting fabric together. "You suggested it. Your fault!"

Hungary threw one down to them and told them that she was getting more from her side. The little Gilbert appeared next to her and indicated the corridor. There were more windows with curtains and luckily the wall was tilted to make an easy grabbing.

She heard Austria call out to her. "Elizaveta, I have a confession to make!"

"Not now!" she yelled back, pulling down every curtain she could muster. Hungary heard Prussia telling her friend now was not the time at all.

"Gilbert, I must tell her now or never!"

Hungary hurled more curtains at them and Prussia vigorously tied knot after knot until the drapes were long enough.

Meanwhile, Austria raced for words. "Forgive me, Hungary. Remember that I promised you food supplies _andsoforth_ in the event of the aftermath?"

Hungary stumbled to answer him. "Yes?"

Austria staggered over his topics. "Well, my people and I have confided in everything but one part. And I've talked to the Magyars –"

Prussia tied the curtains to a chair and tossed the seat to Hungary, she quickly wedged the chair to a window frame.

" – the majority of your population will fit in the shelters I have in store for them," Austria continued. "But we made a miscalculation with our supplies, and – well, they're lower than we thought. The supplies had not been fully organized from the very beginning. So when I brought up the issue, one of your leaders took this seriously into play. And –"

"Climb and go straight to the f*cking point, Austria!" Prussia asserted, handing him the end of the drapery rope, he urged him to go first.

Austria started his climb unsteadily. "And I have recalculated," sped the Nation, "and went over and over the inventory. Unfortunately, there was not enough food to circulate our combined populations for years, if it came down to lasting that long."

"Ahem?!" Prussia frowned at the exclusion.

"Hungary," Austria reached out for her when he was closer. "I am afraid one of the Magyar leaders is leading their division to the eastern countries for help. Your people – today and right now, it seems – are being separated dramatically."

Hungary took his hand. "Where are they heading?" she asked, though she could predict the answer already.

"Romania?" Prussia suggested, peering beyond Austria to look at her. Hungary held Austria's hand, her eyes glazed with blankness like she was in another world.

Austria cautiously continued as another tremor shook them. "Yes, they will be arriving at Romania in minutes, but I believe that they intend to make it to Russia and simply drive by the Carpathians, nothing more. The Magyars released this decision last night, and unfortunately, you were occupied with your military, Poland's party and the news that reached us from Japan. This morning, you wanted to check on –"

"I understand I was distracted then!" She glowered and pulled him up to her level, inches from her face. "A conniving Nation, you are Austria…"

"Hungary, please, had I known of this earlier –"

"I was distracted with other matters, sure, but you did not make an effort to involve me in this? This concerns me among _my_ people! Not yours! They are not yours to play with! I thought you cared about me! Time has run out!"

"Listen –"

"You've done this before Austria! 1848! I thought you'd never do it again!"

"This is _not_ like –"

"You tell me this now and you even insist on –"

"Hello, you two?!" Prussia whined from below them, looking bored out of his mind. "Zhe world is _ending_and you're having small talk?!"

Hungary pulled Austria up grudgingly. The moment Austria was about to give her his other arm to settle on her landing, a tremendous jolt flung them on opposite ends. Austria faltered back and before Hungary could catch him, he fell off the platform.

Letting out a cry, Hungary pushed herself to see where he landed. Luckily, Prussia caught the Austrian with one arm before he could fall to his death.

Prussia decisively lassoed the curtains to the nearest standing wall before they were torn loose. Hungary remained where she was, clinging to the ground, as the tectonic plates miles beneath the earth lurched and moved against themselves. The quake broke the entire mansion; building walls crumbled, the ceiling fell and the floors split. Austria and Prussia's floor sunk even lower and this time it tilted, leaning away from her and towards a widening gap of earth. It was as if they were being offered a chance to fall to their death.

Metal, rock and wood splinted and churned as the ground split right in between them. A car managed to topple the walls and crash on to Hungary's side. The ground gave another violent jolt, sending Austria dangerously near the chasm, but Prussia caught his arm again and pulled him back. They clung for dear life as dangerously sharp wreckage was thrown at them.

Hungary injured herself, her hands slick with blood from wounding stone and chafing metal. Yet she felt no painful sensations from her bleeding injuries. _No! This isn't right!_Her mind cried out for the little Gilbert who completely disappeared. This felt so real. This is a dream. _I should be awake by now!_Her formerly peaceful escape of a dream was quickly turning into a horrible nightmare.

She looked back to where Austria and Prussia were. Austria cried out her name but Prussia restrained him as the world shook again. This time the floor was angrier. Hungary's floor tilted and she was flung away from the doorframe. She swore to herself that their final glance at each other was not their last exchange.

Tumbling down to the other side, rocks scraped her arms until the pavement harshly greeted her. She slowly looked up and saw a pandemonium of Hungarians stampeding through the streets. Authority figures were trying to coordinate them, but many fled to the eastern horizon. Bloody and bruised, she numbly followed the runaways, zooming by every street, trying to find the front of the crowd to try and lead them.

She left behind the torn mansion that contained the lives of her childhood friends._ What am I doing? How could I? This is just a dream! I'm being selfish! No, I'm not! My people come first! I'm sorry Austria. Sorry Prussia._Stopping her stride, her heart pulsed and her lungs ached.

Suddenly her stomach turned inside, making her spew. Hungary caught her belly, bracing for another internal jerk. Instead her mouth began to water, then she remembered at last. _Today._ They vanished. _A week._ A blur of desperation. _Two months._ Something went wrong. _Four months._ Downhill.

She searched for the little Gilbert again, and this time, she spotted him casually sitting on a bench, watching the pandemonium like it was a family movie. He looked completely at ease, dangling his feet; a child unaware of the people panicking around him.

Hungary felt the urge to run alongside her people, but she fought it and took a step towards the mystic boy. His expression changed from content to disbelief, when she approached.

_ "Hey, vhat are you doing?"_he asked, dumbly._"The show's not over!"_

"Don't start with that!" she snarled. "I remember what happened next!"

_"Oh."_ The little Gilbert started swinging his legs to entertain himself. _"Okay zhen, have a seat." _

"I don't like this anymore!" stressed the Hungarian, heavily sitting beside him.

"_Tell me about it._"

Hungary hesitated, but she had to let it all out. At least to Gilbert, she was comfortable.

"Today," she began. "Many perished…animals, plants and people. Food supplies vanished so fast from the panic until complete starvation. In a week, our technology turned primitive and everyone starved for electricity and longed for food. Two to three months…people were starving, one of my men went mental and that one ripple created a wave…"

_ "Ah…"_

Pause. They glanced at each other for a minute before the boy urged on. _"Well, go on, keep talking! I zon't have all day!"_

Hungary raged. "For four months, everyone panicked, okay?! I don't remember what else from there. All I could think of were sinkholes, ditches and water!" She cradled her face as if it was falling apart with mixed emotions. "Gilbert, I don't think it was just one random human who infected my people into cannibalism."

_ "Ahahaha!"_Gilbert smiled. _"Remember no plants, water, cats and shit?"_

"I know, but –"

_"And zhe amount of human meat lying everywhere! And not to mention the fallen order and the drama injected into this hell? All it takes is one stupid guy to go nuts and TADAAH!"_

Hungary fell silent.

They took a moment watching the illusions disappear. Streets erased, people faded and all that was left was the bench and the two of them. _"Before you go, Liz, I want you to leave off on a high note,"_said Gilbert.

Hungary almost cried at the mention of her nickname. It had been a while since…

The little boy stole something from one of her pockets. _"You remember zhis?"_

She nodded at the needle held out to her. Austria told her all about the syringe's contents when they departed from a grand meeting weeks ago. He called it the "Immunity" and it was supposed to keep them alive for a lengthy while in the aftermath. He said he had it tested and assured her –and Prussia – that it was harmless to the personified Nation-kind. So far, it had kept her alive.

The little Gilbert tucked it back in her pocket, his tone turned serious._"Austria and zhe older-awesome me had our own share. I know you knew that already, but I just vanted to remind you before you go_. _And I think it's funny vhat Austria did. The green stuff is working so well!_" He clapped his hands and looked at her with knowing eyes. "_Do you think he tested it on lab rats first, or chimps? Did he ever tell?_"

Hungary gave him a puzzled look. "Gilbert –"

Cutting off her sentence, the little Gilbert stood up lightly when a black hole opened below their feet. Hungary expected to fall into the abyss, but she floated where she sat. The bench hovered and so did the boy. This was just a dream.

"Wait! Where are they, Gilbert?" asked the Nation. She felt herself descending into the blackness. In the hole, a blackened tree materialized and her boots wormed their way towards it, agonizingly slowly. "Stop! Wait! Gilbert!" Her voice started to sound raspy and her hunger returned, along with the sickly scent of ash and decay that would rake her lungs the moment she returned to reality.

"_Pfft! You're funny, Liz,"_ laughed the little boy, flying around her in a circle. "_I can't believe zhe whole time you thought you were dead! This was all a memory!_" He waved her goodbye with his trademark grin. "_Now, don't forget to eat well! Ahehehe!" _

_ What?!_

Hungary gawked. _He's fading away and he tells me to eat well?! What?! 'Goodbyes' are too much to say? _She called for him again, but he faded away into a distant recollection of the past.

* * *

The truck drove along its rickety path down the road. From a distance, Switzerland and Liechtenstein stayed hidden and followed it all the way to its first stop.

It led them to an uneasy terrain, filled with overlapping roads, shattered glass and sharp, twisted metal from melted cars. Switzerland kept a close eye on the truck, like a predator stalking his prey. He checked on his sister for any signs of exhaustion, but she lit up with every step when they closed in on the moving people.

In light of the afternoon, the vehicle manoeuvred over a variety of bumps on the road, unsettling its passengers. When it finally rested by a habitable wreckage site, the men and women breathed a sigh of relief. Not everyone could take the heat and churning of the ride, let alone the stuffiness of the other passengers.

Switzerland and his sister found a trench linking to their shadowy hill and they quickly ran towards it for cover. Obscured, Switzerland unloaded their things. He chose a region of the trench that was closely hidden with many blind spots for the onlooker above. He shifted a boulder to where they planned to rest and it turned into a solid stone door. For the rest of their temporary shelter, he used blankets; it was all to conceal them from the enemy above.

"Tonight, you have to stay here Lili," instructed the Swiss Nation to his sibling. "It's not safe. I'll go alone."

His sister approached him quietly and placed a hand to his face. He shivered at how cold she was; her hands felt frosty. Switzerland checked her forehead and neck for any signs of fever or illness, but all he felt was her chilly skin and all he could see was her smudged face. _She's not_that_sick, right?_ Avidly, he felt the need to provide more for her. He searched his bag for medicine. _She needs her daily dose._

"Oh big brother," she giggled at him in a carefree aura. "I'll be fine!"

"No, you won't be! And no, you're not!" He opened a bottle and held out a pill. "Have this! You forgot to have a dose today!"

Liechtenstein wrapped her cold hands around his palm and closed it, motioning him to have the pill instead. "I'm just cold, Vash, but I'm all right inside."

Flustered by her playful behaviour, Switzerland put the pill away and told her to stay put and guard their things. He enrobed himself with a black-hooded coat and loaded his guns; in case his stealthy strategy failed, he readied a grenade and knife.

Liechtenstein pranced to her things and lit a small candle. Fortunately, the little fire was sheltered behind the trench and all an enemy could see from above would just be an eerie ghostly glow.

Switzerland exercised his limbs for the fight and tightened the black scarf along his neck. In minutes he'll be gone for the rescue, leaving his sister veiled and unsupervised.

He hesitated and glanced at his sibling. Seating herself close by the candlelight, Liechtenstein took her goggles off to see well. Then with her book and pencil, she started doodling on an already-filled page. "I'll draw you something when you get back," she exclaimed.

Strange. Switzerland did not remember her changing into her day dress last night, so she had probably done so along the way. Perhaps it was during their stops a couple of nights ago and he was just noticing now.

"Keep your mask on, okay?" he told her. Then he added a few more instructions to secure her safety.

"Keep the candlelight to a minimum. You shouldn't be drawing in the dark; it's too dark to see and it's bad for your eyes. And there are still plenty of snacks in the bag you can eat, okay? And go to sleep if you must; you'd be camouflaged that way because you don't make noise sleeping, and –"

"Brother…" Liechtenstein gazed up at him intensely. "Just promise me, you'll save her…for me?"

Switzerland blinked away a sting in his eyes. "I promise, Lili," he affirmed, making his sister smile. But there was something almost…sad…about the smile. "I'll be back in a few minutes, stay alert," he quickly added. Right when she nodded to him, he leaped over the trench and vanished into the dark.

The night sky covered the Alpine and it looked like Nature was in favour for his rescue. Switzerland crept behind one ruined wall to another. Debris absorbed the sound of his footsteps and the breeze stole away his scent from the enemy's campsite. He kept his eyes to the crew and his mind calculated for possible opportunities to make a move. In a normal situation, Switzerland could scare away or silence anyone in a heartbeat with a single gunfire. But in this current circumstance a single bullet could be jeopardizing. Lives were at stake and he was not going to take any chances with the other guns at present.

The drivers were heavily armed gunmen, yet they were very dim. They stood at the very end of the group, probably indecisive about patrolling the campground. In the meantime, the passengers were in small groups; some stayed in the truck while the rest huddled near a clumsy campfire. The whole scene looked weakly secured and Switzerland wondered if things would orchestrate so easily.

It was not hard to find Belgium. She was actively in and around the camp; pacing by the huddled individuals, inspecting the people in the truck, and then rummaging through their belongings like there was nothing wrong. Switzerland suddenly thought if she needed rescue at all. The girl looked unafraid and she certainly did not look worried of the gunmen guarding them. She simply looked like she was trying to find something. Perhaps she was looking for something to do or maybe something to eat. _Did she know the people?_Switzerland wondered.

He waited a moment longer for an opportunity to talk to the Nation, and to see if he could bring her to his sibling.

Oblivious, Belgium turned his way and walked up to a box located near him. She searched for its contents and tossed it out for its emptiness. Unaware, she slumped on the other side of a fallen cornice where Switzerland hid.

Taking a risk, Switzerland whispered, "Belgium!"

The Nation was spooked, but the only sound she made was a tiny yelp. She went frigid, thinking Netherlands' ghost was calling to her.

He tried again. "Belgium it's me, Switzerland!"

The Nation did not turn to him, she only flinched. Softly, she responded to his call. "Switz? That sounds like you! How are you?"

Switzerland grunted.

Belgium smiled but she kept her delighted gaze to the camp. She knew that if she made a suspicious move, the crew would turn to her.

"Lili wants to see you again," whispered the Alpine.

"Really?" she thrilled. "Um…Could you give me a moment, Alps?"

"Wait, there's –" Before Switzerland could finish, she was already walking towards the gunmen and no one noticed a change in her stride. _What's she doing? _Switzerland's breathe quickened.

Belgium approached the guards, eagerly yelling, "Men, I have _someone_ to report!"

_She's reporting me!_ Stumbling back, Switzerland lost his footing and lumbered against metal material, accidentally making a loud clang.

Debris blocked his view of the campsite; he was blinded to what was happening on the other side. A holler erupted in the campsite and he could hear the gun men scream after him, he feared. He unsheathed his gun and aimed for the incoming assault.

Nothing emerged to pounce on him. He listened closely to the noises, trying to interpret the events going on. The Nation heard what sounded like heavy pounding. Fists and metal clashed. Footsteps of men and women gathered to a spot and then a voice bellowed over them.

Flabbergasted, Switzerland did not dare to move a muscle. The people started cheering. He heard what sounded like instructions being exchanged, a forceful disperse of a crowd followed by mild threats and gunshots. He did not hear the truck drive away, only a momentary dragging of something heavy. After the outburst faded, he heard hasty footsteps approach his hiding spot.

A familiar pair of pale emerald eyes appeared and by impulse Switzerland pulled the trigger, narrowly missing Belgium by a hair.

"Whoa, Switzy! Friendly fire, I beg you!" hailed the Belgian, a grin plastered across her happy face.

She held out a clammy palm to help him up. "Did you see what I did? It was fun! Why didn't you join in?"

Switzerland stood up independently and walked by her with austere. He surveyed what she just did and restrained his astonishment. Before him was an empty campsite, two dead bodies were set aside the road, the people had disappeared elsewhere and the campfire was doused.

Belgium stood beside him now heavily armed and clinging on her belt were respiratory masks. "I had everything under control, Mister Switzerland!" she smiled.

Switzerland adjusted his coat and brushed off ash from his shoulders. "Just Vash," he shrugged and held out his hand for a proper hand-shake. "Just call me Vash."

"Sorry." She shook his hand. "It's just – we don't normally talk and Lili's barely at my –"

"Let's just go get her, Belgium," snapped the Alpine, letting go of her enthusiastic clutch.

"Just call me Bel for now," bubbled the Nation. "Lead the way Vash! Vash Zwingli is it? My brother mentioned you once. He said you were some stoic guy who likes guns. Apparently a little self-centered, sometimes. Is that true? He said you're like him too. _Frugal!_" She laughed.

Switzerland looked at her for a moment. Making no comment, he turned away and marched to the trench. He wondered how cheery she would be once she reunites with Liechtenstein. They were friends after all, and Belgium seemed to be the type to easily succumb to something adorable. No wonder countries like England, France, Spain and even Romano like her. For Switzerland, she annoyed the heck out of him. He did not even do anything in the rescue and things did not go according to _his_ strategic planning. He just sat back and watched! _I could have just stayed with Lili or at least used my grenade!_ They reached the mouth of their hideout and paused.

"How did you do it?" Switzerland quietly asked the other Nation.

Belgium was peering over the trench when she replied. "Huh? Oh – oh the fighting?"

Switzerland nodded.

"I'm smart." Belgium confidently raised her head. "I kick ass like my big brother, my good friends are tough ladies, I had an Austrian and a German takeover, I worked with a Spaniard, I kissed an Italian, I liked an Englishman, I'm friends with a Frenchman and can I kick my own ass! I think that should explain everything, _oui_?"

The Swiss Nation wondered why he even asked. He jumped down the trench and looked for his sibling. Liechtenstein's sketchbook was left where she sat earlier and the stub of a candle was melting beside it, its light dimly flickering. The moonlight was bright enough to outline the stark of night, so Switzerland blew out the flame.

He peered through the stone door to check on his sister. Safely inside, Liechtenstein was sleeping on his neatly folded blanket.

Landing in the trench quietly, Belgium asked, "Is she sleeping?"

Switzerland vacantly replied, "Of course! Wait here." He brought out a spare blanket and pillow for Belgium. "You don't mind sleeping outside?"

"_Pish, posh_, I've been sleeping outside for days." She received them happily and set up her bed by Liechtenstein's candle. "Seriously, there haven't been any bugs or animals about. The world has gotten rid of them and only bacteria survived eating whatever remains were left over – really gross. But for the most part, I've been sleeping comfortably on the ground!"

Belgium stretched her limbs for a few minutes, waiting for Switzerland to continue the conversation. When he remained silent, the Belgian spotted Liechtenstein's sketchbook and said, "I can see Lili tomorrow. I mean, she's probably exhausted – may I look through this lovely sketchy?" Belgium waved it up for Switzerland to take a quick look. After he gave permission, she fingered through the sketched-filled pages.

Unmoved by her enthusiasm, Switzerland grumbled, "I guess it's not so dark for you to read."

"The moonlight's pretty bright," beamed Belgium before returning her attention back to the drawings.

He felt assured that she was going to keep watch, seeing that she was filled with enough energy for it. He did not want to disturb Liechtenstein's slumber, so he decided on sleeping by the stone door close to her. Switzerland was about to surrender to sleep when he was startled by Belgium's sudden shriek.

Belgium was horror-stricken at a page in Liechtenstein's sketchbook.

Oddly furious, Switzerland snatched the sketchbook away from the Nation – not that his face was ever doodled in any of the pages. "I change my mind – you shouldn't be looking through this! This is personal!" Switzerland closed the book and shoved it in one of his suitcases. "It's rude! I don't even look through it…what?"

Looking at Belgium, he was confused by her frightened face. She was quivering in fear and staring straight at him with misty eyes.

"You have not sifted through the pages, you say?" Belgium asked shuddering at the sight of him. She had a lump caught in her throat when she requested another answer. "Where's…where's Liechtenstein, Vash?"

He was stunned with confusion. _What is she talking about? Must be the medicine acting up_, he thought. _But it never acted up. I'm tired._

"Is…is…she in there?" Belgium glanced at the stone door where Liechtenstein lay sleeping.

Switzerland nodded furiously. "Yes! She's sleeping! Keep to your business and stop crying for no reason!" He closed the subject. "I'm going to sleep."

"She wrote a _will_ in her sketchbook, Vash!"

Switzerland ignored her. He became severely upset and paid no more attention. The Alpine settled back to his spot and closed his eyes, his back turned to Belgium.

"I know what I saw! It was dated in June!" The Nation sobbed behind him. "Vash, she died the moment of the flashes and she saw it coming! See for yourself! It's dated in her sketchbook! It's _written_in her sketchbook!"

He disagreed to everything she was saying. _Not true. No, no, no._ _Lili's still here! She's sleeping. Just a dream. A nightmare. _"I'm warning you now to be quiet –"

"Or what? Shoot me?! I understand that it's hard to accept, but – "

Switzerland growled menacingly and hissed over his shoulder. "Lili is sleeping and you're going to wake her up! I swear if you say another word, you will regret it!"

Belgium huddled herself close and silently whimpered. Unconcerned, Switzerland rested, facing away from the Nation. He dismissed her overreactions as completely insane delusions. _Nightmares don't leave me alone easily,_he thought so._I've got to shoot them out of my turf to leave me alone_.

When deep sleep engulfed him, something dark resurfaced in the back of his mind. Realization sparked a small flint and lit a flame in the gloom of his subconscious. Things had not been what they seemed after all. He leaned against the cold stone wall between him and where he thought his sibling slept. For the first time ever, a tear drop slowly slid down his cheek. Belgium was right. Liechtenstein had not been around the whole time.

* * *

_**Writer's Ramble:**_

**Chapter 3:** Previously, Hungary threatened to sing Romania a lullaby before he went to sleep. I found the inspiration for the joke from a Prussia-Hungary Himaruya-style short comic. Unfortunately, I can no longer find the comic strip so here is the tumblr quote instead _(h.t.t.p.:/./) hetaquotes(.tumblr)(.com)/post/44869226688/hungary -oh-prussia-fell-asleep-in-a-weird _

This Youtube video: _(h.t.t.p.:/./.w.w.w.)youtube(.com)/watch?v=EjpAohE6Jv4&list=RD035cahZATGTs4_ displays a character who listened to the Hungarian song and then committed suicide. I guess that was why Prussia got a little worried.

* * *

Side Note on Belgium's Character: It was frickin' hard to make her believable! After coming out of a semester learning about Modern Europe, I've got a few good grounds on how I want this Belgian gal. So look forward to her role. ;)


	5. The Boiling Point of Truth

Thank you to guest reviewers: Emma and Ariadna! Being the first two reviewers, you truly made my day! I literally flipped!

**5: The Boiling Point of Truth**

**(~)**

* * *

The morning ebbed slowly, and it was still dark when the Romanian Nation awoke. He felt every inch of his body ache, but he ignored it. Straightening up, he stretched and looked around. No one else was moving besides the Hungarian across from him. She was kicking around in her sleep, muttering in distress.

_Must be a nightmare,_ he snickered. Hungary was unconsciously ruining her clothes against the soot covered branch. Romania grinned at the thought of a 'soot-flavoured' nightmare. _Serves her right! Literally! Ha, ha! _

He packed up his sleeping bag and weapons. After making a final check to make sure he had everything, he loosened the harness that bound him to the tree branch, and cautiously slid down and untied the rope. Mask on and wary of his surroundings, the Nation lowered his sled and crates.

Dawn was fading. Romania had a couple of hours to spare before daybreak and before Hungary wakes up. He placed a half open can of soup under her tree. Feeling generous, he quickly roped himself to the Hungarian's nest and placed an expired pear on a branch near her level. He laid the moldy fruit close to where she could reach when she gets up. He intended the placement in a manner that she would hopefully knock the fruit off the tree when she awakes. _It should work or else she'll suffer stomach aches eating _this_ fruit, _he thought. _Then again, either way it'll be entertaining. _

Fixing his prank even more, he scrambled to the canned soup at the foot of the tree and shifted it to a blind spot where her foot would most likely land when she climbs down. That way she would step on it or knock it over. _Accidentally her fault_, he smiled at his work.

Romania glanced at the direction of Arad. They were quite close, only a few kilometres away. Once they reach it, Hungary would discover one of his secrets. _Might as well tell her before hand, _Romania sulked. He finished his breakfast, and with a broken stick, he started squiggling on the dirt. He doodled this and that to help with the explanation he prepared for.

He was listening intently to his surroundings, and for a while he only heard Hungary's uncomfortable tossing. Suddenly, another sound emanated from within the trees nearby – so close that Romania almost had no time to ready his gun. A man emerged out of the forest wearing a respiration mask like his, a sheathed rifle strapped behind him. As he approached, Romania could tell it was one of his stealthy patrollers from the cave.

"Sir?" the pudgy human was dumbfounded as he took off his woollen hat in a polite manner.

"Good morning," Romania greeted, like a captain would his men. "You must have arrived from Arad, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir! Of course, sir!"

Romania gestured him to keep quiet, before glancing at Hungary sleeping on a tree. "Let's not wake up Sleeping Beauty."

The man suddenly looked at him with bulging eyes of surprise. "Sir?!"

The Nation sighed. "No, she's not my girlfriend."

"Sir?"

"Definitely not my wife."

"Sir..."

"Well, we did sleep together last night." Romania grinned at the man's utter confusion.

"Sir!"

The Nation laughed at the joke. _I just love my people._ "No, no – not on the same tree!" Romania took off his mask; he had fogged it up from laughing so hard. "We don't even like each other! We hate each other. And that, my friend, is an understatement." Taking in the priceless moment, Romania ambled over to the prank he had set up and showed it off.

"Oh." The man grubbily placed his wool hat back on his head and regarded the sled. "Okay…well…Sir…?"

"Oh, yes!" Romania went up to his sled and took his backpack from it. "Take this sled to Arad, Bob. And from there transport yourself back to the cave." The Nation suddenly snapped his fingers, fished out letters from his suit and gave them to the man he nicknamed Bob – even though he knew his real name was Robert.

He knew his people's full names by heart, yet sometimes he found it funny to call them nicknames and they did not mind at all.

He handed another letter to the patroller. "Give this one to the little girl Nadia."

"Sir?"

"Yes, her, in particular." Romania led the man away from their campsite; he figured he should at least walk him half-way safely to the Arad station just to be cautious.

The sled trundled behind Bob as the man pulled it gingerly. The load wobbled, though everything was securely in place with ropes wrapped around each crate. Even with no wheels for convenience, the patroller had no problem dragging what appeared like a pathetic barrow of heavy goods.

"Bob, you're a man of many words," said Romania, "and I'm sure you're fine lugging this along by yourself. This sled might make some noise, but I don't think there'll be problems stalking around these parts for a while. The cannibals must've moved elsewhere."

"Indeed, sir."

"Were you gonna meet another patroller around here?"

"Sir –" the man tossed the subject aside and faced the Nation with intelligence. "_Suntem curioşi de agenda ta_. Who are you looking for? Are we still going to Russia?"

Romania was taken aback. "Ugh…yes, we are still going to go to Russia and maybe even Poland. Plans didn't change. And I am seeking a friend of mine whom I hope is around here…"

"Sir, do we know this person? We could help you find him –"

"No." _No._ Bulgaria's out there and he would find him himself. _Something or someone is out there..._ "I'll find him alone," the Nation insisted. "Don't worry. He's just a friend of mine lost in the cold and stormy night of the grey wilderness...I'll find him." They reached the half-way point and from the hill they could see a clear path to a surviving station. Romania smiled at the sight of the small buildings still standing.

"Okay, Sir. But what about the girl?" Bob asked, referring to Hungary.

"What about her? Oh yeah…" Romania waved the man goodbye. "She's the rubber chicken I'm either getting rid of or bringing to Cluj. I haven't decided yet."

With a nod, Bob disappeared into the station with his sled. Romania watched as another patroller tended to him and the supplies.

It was by heart that the Nation knew his men, for they were distinguishable to him – not only by their marked coats, but by their beating presence. They were fine patrollers, independently hopping around Cluj's safe perimeters. Romania was not so worried for their lives because the land was in their favour. The only concern he had were the Hungarian cannibals, but those were not so frightening when they were primitively armed compared to his patrolling crew who had the better mind set and weaponry.

_Crap, do I really have to tell the Magyar everything? _Romania sighed and rushed back to the trees.

When he returned to the campsite, he found Hungary face down on the ground, her canned soup squashed, its contents spilt to waste and the moldy pear fruit rolled a couple of feet away, contaminated.

Romania could not restrain his inner laughter seeing that his wasteful prank worked. He was trying so hard not to burst out laughing.

"Geez, I give you food and you play with it? _Tsk, tsk!" _He sat cross legged in front of her and continued his torment. "That pear was pretty hard to find – well, it _was_ moldy anyway, so who cares, right_?_"

She did not lift her head up, so it was hard to know what she was thinking. Her hair blanketed her head like a shield, and as predicted, her clothes were mucked with soot from where she slept. He supposed she was recovering from a sudden fall.

Romania swung his knapsack aside and fished out another meal for her. Keeping his bag to himself, he stood up and returned to squiggling on the dirt. "Once you're done with your dramatic awakening, let me know," he called over his shoulder.

As he drew more things on the dirt, he heard her coughing and then chugging down her food voraciously. He eyed her as she strolled over to sit beside him. Her mask hung loosely around her neck, revealing her pale face, stained with tears, ash, and soot. Suddenly, Romania felt a tinge of alarm. She looked like she had just seen a ghost!

Cautious of every word, he asked warily, "Ugh…so…where do you want to begin?"

Hungary's green eyes spited him the moment they locked onto his. Romania flinched from the intensity of the sudden glare. She looked a little demonic if it weren't for the womanly façade. Seeing his fear, Hungary twisted her mouth with content. _I hate, hate,_hate_this Magyar! _Romania thought angrily, subduing his pathetic fright.

Prepared for the heavy burden of truth, Hungary laid back and said, "Start from the moment it all began: when the world Ended."

Romania was not going to reveal everything, as he decided from last night. He stood up and indicated his drawings on the ground. "Take a gander."

Hungary jumped beside him and observed his display. Romania had drawn doodles of four maps; as well as he could, he had illustrated the 'before' and 'after'. The biggest maps he drew were the before-and-after of Europe. He even had names of the countries on each part and he had purposely written 'Magyar's cursed-land' on where Hungary was.

"A masterpiece isn't it?" Romania admired. He lightly circled the changed areas on Europe. "Besides the whole world sinking, burning and so forth, I'll be focusing more on this lot, because Europe is a _wonderful_ lot – and a hot topic to talk about. Literally."

On the 'after' version map of Europe, he pointed to parts of Scandinavia, then Britain, France, Spain and Italy, and stated that they had either been submerged underwater or burnt to uninhabitable. Romania leaped over to the other side of the map and pointed to the eastern regions of Turkey to parts in Russia that had turned derelict. He drew rivers that expanded in the south central region, and speckled the areas that had shelters which contained – or _had_ contained – people. He shaded parts of Switzerland, Austria, Hungary's country and the southern part of Europe and claimed them dangerously infested by cannibals.

"Any news from other Nations?" Hungary interrupted.

"Nope."

The Hungarian saddened. "And all this you know how, exactly?"

"I've been all over my country," Romania retorted, "and have paid close attention to every corner of my turf and every trading merchant here. It's rather limiting, but I get enough information without technological thingies like phones and radios. Everything's broken. We're living with candlelight and gas. All I know is what I know, from what I get." He smirked.

Romania reluctantly told her about the early predictions his people had of the impending doom. He said Russia had influenced him to early planning. He told her how early his people had prepared - with dynamite, they had bombed through mountains for cave shelters; with little opposition and understandable rules, he had rapidly managed his people. They had willingly coordinated themselves in cooperation for survival. Romania also mentioned his rescues for the families that had went astray during the flashes. However, he kept his mouth shut of other details.

Hungary coughed. "How long has it been?"

Romania looked at her, befuddled. "What?"

"What day is it?" she demanded.

"Oh…ugh…" He quickly counted his gloved fingers. "It has been say…more than four to five months after June, following the flashes. How you lived that long in that ditch is beyond me. I don't know how you did it."

Hungary seemed to hesitate. "Last night…I finally remembered what had happened to me before…"

_Oh, she's cooperating? _Romania wondered. Curious, he had to ask, "Well…Do tell."

"What's it to you?" snapped Hungary, relighting her flame.

_And here we go. _Romania shrugged. "Never mind, then." He weaved around the squiggled map again, immersing her with last bits of information. He located his cave and the routes he traveled, he even involved her in his search for Bulgaria and his people's plan to set forth to Russia.

Finally exhausted, he finished. "I'm leading my people to Ukraine. As much as I don't like Ivan and his sisters, I feel the need to go to them for my people's sake. From a Polish merchant, I found word that there was a boat. I believe Ivan is behind it with his sisters and his family. From what I've heard, the boat returned for more passengers and I want my people on that boat out of here.

"If we can tolerate each other long enough, you can go to Poland. Maybe you'll find someone there for your manly 'pan-handles'." Laughing, he started erasing the map on the ground carefully.

Romania put his mask back on and took out the stringent chemical spray from his bag. He sprayed the wasted compost from his prank and right after the chore, he strode away, not bothering to tell Hungary they were leaving. It was a little ways off to the station anyway.

Soon after, the Hungarian joined him, her mask still around her neck. He was conscious of her watching him intently, her piercing eyes hotly glaring him down. "How come you lived so healthy this long?" she asked.

Romania acknowledged her question with a chortle. "Well, I should ask you the same thing! But I'll tell you my secret. I have lived this long breathing in the toxins because of the things I wear." He tapped the respiration mechanism around his face, and took out his favourite hat to put on his head in a silly fashion. "This cover of will and this visage of goodness."

Hungary rolled her eyes. "'Visage of Goodness?' Visage of _Idiocy,_ in my opinion. You left your sled of crates back there."

"And who asked for your opinion, Miss Moody?" Romania grumbled. "My sled is safe somewhere else, and you have no idea where!"

"You're right," she complied icily. "You must have made it disappear. A trick you've pulled out of your hat, 'Now-you-see-it-now-you-don't', hmm?"

_ I will kill her tonight, it has got to be tonight, _Romania blinked away the scheme.

They neared an uphill turn and in a few more minutes they would soon be arriving at Arad. With every step, Romania suffered question after question from Hungary, some of which he did not want to answer for secrecy's sake. In the end, the Nation did his best to return immediate and short replies. There seemed to be a silent contest between them – who could be patient with the other the longest.

"You never explained to me what you were doing at the Great Plains," Hungary asked, coughing.

"I traveled to a big trade post, a couple kilometres south of Budapest," he countered.

"Trade post? Were there any –"

"I wasn't sure if there were any Austrians or Germans among them. I was busy keeping a low profile."

"Why were you – "

"I don't trust other people. I only trust my own and my own trust me. Pretty logical I say, don't you think?"

"Explain where you got your weapons and your food supply!"

"Pulled them out of my hat," he grinned.

Hungary punched his ribs unexpectedly. Romania cringed and opened his mask for air, only to choke. She stood before him and ripped his bag open. The Hungarian found what she was looking for. The frying pan.

"You have not told me everything," she sharply stated, then zipped his bag shut with a pan on one hand. "You have not said anything about your stupid cannibalistic encounters."

"Gee, I figure we should get along first," Romania snorted sarcastically. He tried to gather himself up, but his bag felt so heavy all of a sudden. He felt vulnerable as he braced for Hungary's imminent assault. But they were so close to the station! All he needed to do was climb over the hill and bring her to Arad. The station, the trains…they would be revealed, his men would help him…

Hungary roughly pressed the pan against his cheek and threatened him severely. "Tell me, how many cannibals are out there, how many have you killed, and how many are Magyars! Don't refuse to answer!"

Romania let out an exasperated sigh. "This is how you thank me? After all we've been through?"

"Tell me or else!"

"Or else you'll turn me into a pancake, I know," replied Romania, completely tired of her incessantly aggressive behaviour.

Finally, he surrendered. He had kept the secret for too long. "Some percentage of your population had turned into cannibals," he said, "along with Austria's and the other countries' people around that region. For all I know, they'd gotten desperate until in a matter of months they turned into hunters with plenty of water-logged bodies to feast on. Unfortunately for me, a bunch of mangy Magyars found it easier to hunt eastwards at the borderline of my country. They're mostly south though – which is a relief. I bet they – "

"How many have you _killed_?" Hungary demanded to know. The pan pressed firmly against his face, threatening to bruise.

"I led a few of them to a ditch! Got it?!" he yelled. "The closest trap was a sinkhole that was half-filled up with dead guys! They added to the stinkin' pile! They got killed starving in there and – I don't know – I guess you were already in the bottom of the pit before I dumped more in! It was at Szeged!"

The Hungarian croaked. "What?"

"You heard me!" Romania took the advantage and stole away the frying pan from her gaped expression and frozen hands. She fought back with a swing of a fist but missed. Romania continued to roughly explain as he wrestled the pan away from her grasp. "Sinkhole! Your place! Found _you_ there! Get it, now?!"

Hungary suddenly elbowed him in the gut again. This time she freed her pan away and swung it straight to his head. Romania dodged, but his bag took the hit and he scrambled to steady.

Hungary seized another chance and kicked his footing. "Liar!" she screamed, beating him mercilessly with the pan.

"No!" fought Romania, using his bag to shield him from her attacks. "Admit it! You turned because you had nothing! You sunk with those you led, and I –" he tackled her legs before she could manage another blow – "I just added to the mess. No big deal."

He tried staggering up, but she was on him again like a wolf clawing a deer. Romania's mind raced for his weapons.

_I have pistols and blades, what am I wrestling around for? I've had it up to here!_ The Romanian sneaked an arm to one of his coat pockets, but he felt hands brush against his torso snatching something away. The frying pan landed on the ground with a clang, followed by the sound of two terrifying clicks – _Oh, crap._ That was what she was after the whole time.

Romania felt her weight off him instantly. He did not need to look up to know what he had done. He had let her have them. Both of them. Both of his precious _Dracula_ pistols.

He raised his hands to surrender, making no eye contact. No doubt Hungary aimed both pistols to his head. Weirdly, the first thing he worried about was his own blood staining the little hat on his head. It was a favourite hat.

Romania was running out of time to explain things. He feared that Hungary would unexpectedly pull the trigger from either hatred or panic. He felt useless to her now that she had everything she needed. Romania licked his lips and tasted the tang of blood.

Hungary let him stand up. _So, she wants me to 'face-plant' in front of her after she pulls the trigger, eh? _he thought.

The Hungarian snarled through gritted teeth, "Now I shall kick your ass! It's your own idiotic fault for not killing me."

Romania knew this was coming, but he did not anticipate the speed of the events. He was about to reply when a gun clicked, sending an icy shock in both their nerves. A familiar patrol stood behind Hungary with a rifle in hand dreadfully coursed to shoot the back of her cranium.

"You're outnumbered, Miss," said the man, signalling seven more comrades to gather around. Their loaded guns pointed at Hungary to admit defeat.

Romania smiled at the Hungarian. "What? You didn't expect me to have a contingency plan up my sleeve?" He showed off his sharp tooth to taunt Hungary even further; she was frozen on the spot, unwilling to lower her weapons. He looked over her and nodded at the patrol man. "Nice to see you again, Bob!"

Two more patrollers joined them, Romania was glad to see them all right. They gathered around his side and pointed their rifles at Hungary to surrender.

Hungary glanced at each of them feverishly; the frying pan reachable on the ground beside her and the two pistols held to their target. "I want out," she hissed.

"Is that you _surrendering_ I hear?" sung Romania, taking off his hat and putting it away with a spin. Wary of the guns she held, Romania enthusiastically picked up the frying pan from where she stood and opened his hands for the pistols to be returned.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she yelled, "I am not surrendering, you asshat – !" Hungary clicked the pistols to his chest, her fingers about to curl in the trigger.

But before a shot was fired, the butt of a rifle struck the back of her skull. The startled Magyar wobbled, losing consciousness. Romania comically stepped aside, swiftly reclaiming his pistols. Out cold, Hungary crashed to the ground. Romania's patrol men gathered around their leader for further instructions.

Romania did not stir for a moment as his team waited. Something suddenly jolted inside the Nation - one of those moments when a personified Nation felt something eventful in their country. In Romania's case, he sensed another embodiment setting foot somewhere in his land.

Earlier, besides Hungary, he perceived it was Bulgaria he'd been tracking – though the inkling floundered. Just now and out of the blue, there was another player. And this one, he sensed, had traveled from miles away…

Diverting his mind-set, Romania looked around his camaraderie. He smiled at Bob who looked completely innocent with a rifle in hand. "Good job, Bob," laughed the Nation, "I seriously didn't know you had it in you!"

They reached the Arad train station in moments. The roof of each shelter and cabin, lining by the train station's railroads, were either burnt or wrecked by heavy rain. The railroad tracks looked descent, its metal material polished and in tact. The two trains parked were missing some wagons, but both were in stable condition. The whole station looked like the cluttered aftermath of a battleground, with a railroad cleared for two trains to squeeze through.

They placed Hungary's unconscious body under a demolished cabin's porch while Romania took a stroll by the rails to calm himself and examine every screw and bolt of the parked locomotives.

Bob approached him with a laudatory look. "Sir, nice of you to join us," he greeted, "but, what do you intend to –?"

"Bob, I think you can predict the answer to your own question, and yes, I do have sly intentions for the lady," Romania said brusquely.

"Sir?"

The Nation chortled. "I'm only joking." He motioned his men to one of the shelters near the station's railroad. "Tie her up in one of the abandoned houses there. Make sure she's unarmed and give me all her weapons, if she has any – Ha, ha! Bob, don't look at me like that. She's not my type. I told you before. We immensely hate each other. Trust me."

"Sir…um…I hope you remember that the men and I are deserting this station tonight," Bob informed. "We are leaving one driver for you…"

"What for, again?" Romania asked slightly concerned. He had forgotten some of his own plans.

"You'd said, we best pack up for the travel to Ukraine, sir," said the man. "We are the last patrol here to close this station and we're heading back home. I thought when we find you, you were going to join us, but apparently you've unfinished business to take care of. I believe your search is not over. So I ordered one of us to stay to drive the second train for you. We are going to take the other one to Cluj. For your friend, I don't think there will be anyone here to feed her if she's all tied up."

"Ah." Romania fingered his chin. He regretted not learning how to drive trains. _Maybe the 'solo-patrollo' could teach me.._."Keep the men patrolling around Cluj – this time in a tighter circle. I suggest double-guarding. Oh, and I'd like to greet this train man, you speak of."

The patrol nodded and saying no further, he left to find the engineer. Romania coordinated the rest of his team to prepare for departure.

Only two trains had survived the Calamity, and they felt blessed that most of their railroads had remained. Both trains were a great value among his people and they made sure they guarded them closely. Keeping them orderly was a tedious task, especially when fuel was rare. The people of Romania protected the property, seeing it as their secret advantage over those without, whoever harassed it was immediately arrested or killed.

Bob acquainted the train engineer to Romania. Taking off his gas mask, the man looked like he was in his late sixties. He was dressed in humble patrol clothes and most of his hair thinned with age. He took a sad glimpse at the cabin where Hungary was tied up.

When the old man looked back at him, Romania saw deep concern written on his face. Suddenly, the Nation understood why. "You know her?"

The man shook his head. "No, sir…She just reminded me of…of my granddaughter, who –"

"The Calamity took away from you," Romania finished sympathetically. The Nation sincerely apologized for the loss and reassured him things would turn out. He really did not want to get personal nor did he want to rethink his past actions against Hungary.

In his mind, Romania had planned to continue his search for the two other embodiments without the Hungarian Nation. However, right after meeting the engineer, he figured Hungary should still accompany him, no matter their hatred. Things were different now. He still did not have to like her, but abandoning her was a little too cruel, even for him.

* * *

The next morning Switzerland woke up in terror. He was completely unarmed and someone had stolen half their – his – supplies. What enraged him even more was that his sister's suitcase was missing. Liechtenstein appeared from the stone door. _No, no, no! _He panicked.

Wide awake and looking at him, she was wearing her ruffled dress. She was not wearing the scarf and goggles anymore; on her hair was her bright violet ribbon, daintily tied on a tuft. Her face shone radiantly like the sun.

"You have to hurry, Vash!" Whirling away, she frantically jumped up and down to look over the trench. "Belgium's gone!"

Switzerland fumbled, a little disoriented, but he managed to get to his feet. _Lili's not here anymore, don't you - don't I understand?! _Eyes blurring, he sniffed. _"_Where are my weapons?" A truck engine started from above.

"Belgium stole them!"

"What?! Why?" _Not here. Lili's no longer here. _Shakily, Switzerland felt his pockets and was relieved to find his multi-knife and a couple of grenades still with him.

Liechtenstein stood in front of him and pointed at her sketchbook that was oddly opened at the foot of the trench. "You have not looked through my sketches and I thank you for that. But there is a page that I wanted you to read for months..."

"Lili, I –"

"I am sorry to interrupt, dear brother, but I insist you read it. Please? For me?"

_ I will! I will! Just don't say it, Lili. Don't you dare! _The Alpine busied packing up his blankets. _I don't want to hear this! No, no, no!_

"Um…Mister Switzerland…?"

Switzerland braced himself and closed his eyes. "Don't – "

She smiled at him ethereally. "At this time please, may _I_ stay behind…and _you_ go?"

Switzerland felt his legs collapse to the ground. It was a collapse of complete exhaustion and failure. He was on his knees, burdened with the guilt and sacrifice he endured for his sister. _All in vain?_

His country had prepared so much for this, but everything did not fall into place, it had fallen apart! Above all, the sliver of happiness –his beloved sister – was turning him insane! A horrible sinking feeling clawed inside him– it was just too much!

He had done all this and went all this way to protect Liechtenstein, but Nature had bested him from the very beginning. _There had been no one there after all_…

Switzerland had carried her things with him, because he couldn't bear to leave them behind. He'd inspected her health often throughout the journey only to neglect his own all along. All for naught. All from the very beginning of the End. The flashes. The boat. Her arrival. His solitude!

He remembered the boat that had sailed across the Rhine. It had arrived to him veiled with flowers and it was the one he had kept hidden from all eyes – the same boat he recently escaped with before destroying. Soon after his sister's funeral, he'd tried to erase her death from his memory. Then his mind crumbled from reality to despair.

She was his imagination – a denial that trailed him like a shadow. All this way. All this time.

His face coated with grey misery, hot tears of disbelief and agony streamed down his cheeks, each droplet staining the dusty ground. Switzerland found it hard to stand up or breathe. He could barely find a reason to. He had lost everything he truly cared about. His country. His sister. _Nothing._ Nothing was there for him anymore. He was _alone_. What was the point of even living anymore? There as nothing left for him to cherish.

A cold hand lifted his face and he glaciated. Switzerland was staring straight at Liechtenstein's youthful green eyes and spot-lit face, a flash of memories ravaged in him and his sibling smiled. "You promised me something last night. Remember?"

_What…Belgium…? _He pondered for a moment.

"I will tell you this, Mr. Vash Zwingli of Switzerland," she said, energetically leaping up the trench's mouth with no trouble. "Her brother is still alive!" Liechtenstein fixed her dress and peered over to him. Switzerland followed her, hastily taking any belongings left over, including his sister's book and his fragile radio.

"Lili, why did you not tell me all this time?" Switzerland miserably asked her, putting away the erratic radio in his pocket. He was still having a hard time comprehending everything that had happened, and it was also a deep challenge accepting it.

His sister embraced him in an icy hug. "It was not for _me_ to tell," she said gently, untying the ribbon on her hair and placing it on his palm. "I guided you all this way, because you wanted me to. You kept thinking about me, so I kept appearing in your mind."

Switzerland tightened his fingers around the purple band. "I've gone insane…" muttered the Swiss, he randomly plucked out medicine from his pockets and threw them out to the dust. He supposed they were one of the causes for his confusing mind.

Liechtenstein giggled and turned him around to face the road ahead. It was indeed a very long way away, but he felt so incomplete without a sense of purpose – protecting his sister.

At that moment, Switzerland's eyes lit up. After tying Liechtenstein's ribbon around his wrist, he darted across the area and stopped to survey the campsite. He saw the two bodies that Belgium killed last night and there was a freshly marked yellow "X" on both of them from yellow spray paint. Odd. Belgium carried no such paints and she was not the type to disrespect the dead like this. Switzerland reckoned she had nothing to do with the vandalism. But then again, he had not expected her to run off with his things in the middle of the night either. The end of the world could make someone go crazy...

Aside the bodies, he found heavy boot tracks freshly imprinted in the soft grey mud. The ones near the truck's trails were Belgium's doing. However these ones by the vandalized bodies did not look like they were from any of the people last night. Though he could be wrong, he was certain that the new thick boot prints were from someone new. Someone else was here earlier…Someone had marked their spot.

He gave a worried glance at Liechtenstein, but she waved him goodbye. After an enduring exchange of painful silence, Switzerland finally dropped his gaze.

"It's all right, dear brother…" said his sibling. With a tender and loving smile, Liechtenstein drifted away in a flourishing breeze. Forever his beloved sisterly Nation departed from him.

Switzerland lingered there a little longer. "Thank you, Lili Vogel of Liechtenstein," he said solemnly. "You…you've taught me so much…and I'll never forget..."

Dry-eyed, the Nation thought about putting a cross on the spot for her grave. But it occurred to him that he had already buried her at his country. The secret funeral he had held and forgotten. Long ago. The world had blurred after that…

The Alpine quickly turned to sprint to across the land following the truck's wheel path. He would visit his sibling's grave again. He would return to his mountains and re-establish order. All this would be done right after Switzerland fulfilled a certain promise.

Maybe the other pair of siblings could help him.

* * *

_"Wake up, Elizaveta…"_

Hungary felt her wrists being nipped by tiny needles. Her arms were looped haphazardly behind her around a splintering wooden post, and an old, rough rope chafed at her ankles.

_"He's here…"_

The Nation's eyes fluttered blurrily as she strained to ease sore muscles and regain consciousness. "Austria?" Hungary mumbled through the rag around her mouth. Someone else's laughter echoed in the room instead of the Nation she called.

_Oh great. _Hungary looked up and found Romania watching her by the door. They were in a dark cabin room, stray planks of wood and debris were scattered on the floor. The hearth was stone, cold and empty; the ceiling was gone. Hungary could see the night sky looming in and swallowing the daylight. The walls surrounding her were made of wood, but she felt the very chill of a stone cold breeze holding her in. Hungary felt trapped, weak, and vulnerable. Her mask was gone, her breathing hastened, and the ropes around her wrists and ankles constricted her as she struggled to free herself.

Growing impatient, she vigorously chewed against the filthy rag around her mouth until it loosened. She could talk, but she could not reach for the knots around her ankles, nor writhe her fingers free. Hungary spat, saliva and green fluid landing beside her. She didn't flinch from disgust at all.

"Nasty," voiced the Romanian across the room. "For someone who lived at Austria's house, you sure have lady-like manners."

"Shut it!" Hungary spat. "For someone who lived hating me for many years, you sure care about my manners!"

"No, I don't care," retorted the young man. "I just observe. You're acting weirder and weirder than usual. Not that you weren't like this before…I mean like weirder in a different way…cursed probably... "

Ignoring him, Hungary concentrated on her hands behind her back. They wove around the knots like they were needle and thread. She was certain that it was Austria who taught her how to do this, but somehow she kept remembering Prussia had something to do with this as well. Austria always had his hands tied up in Prussia's mess and she had always been there to help him out. Prussia had been the worst of her troubles back then, but now Romania took the center stage of her hate.

"Well, have fun going off on your own." Romania took his bag on his shoulder and hesitated by the porch. He looked like he was about to say something, but he changed his mind and vanished to the deserted street.

Hungary waited until his footsteps faded. She continued to wriggle her fingers free with hastening speed. Romania's abandonment was a little startling; she was disarmed and had no food to stay alive! Hungary wanted her frying pan again and his endless food supply – not to mention his additional safety. _Ugh! _Hungary hated to admit the fact that she was too vulnerable being alone in the dark. This feeling of vulnerability – it was something she was definitely not used to! She used to be feared by other nations for her temper!

Suddenly, there was a clang and a few mutterings followed by a start of an exhaust pipe. Outside, something sounded like a start of – _a train?_ _Impossible! _Hungary ferociously slipped her hands free from the ropes and untied her ankles. Her wrists oozed with crimson from the splintering ordeal, the specks of bruises along her arms concerned her. They were difficult to ignore as they left a pinching sensation that numbed, restricting her movements. Though for certain, her legs could still make a run for the moving train.

Bursting out of the cabin, she spotted Romania walking on the roof of a slow crawling train. As much as the wheels sluggishly lumbered along the rusty tracks, there was minimal squealing from the well-oiled machine. Its unpolished wagons were rusty, slightly burnt and dented. Its windows were either smashed or opened. Some of its wagons still had a roof – still strongly in tact for the Romanian Nation to imprudently walk on. The doors were all torn off from its hinges and the capsular engine dragged it forward to acceleration. The train's sides were slightly striped with blue, white and yellow, and titled _Dacia Express_.

Hungary jumped to the nearest opening and climbed on, soundlessly as possible. She was deeply jealous of Romania all over again. _Food, daggers, pistols, patrol men, and now, a _train_!_ She groaned. _Next thing I'll find is one of his castle-homes outstanding! _The train slithered by a castle-like home sitting well on its foundations with little damage – Hungary swore under her breath.

Safe in the train, she fervently explored the passenger rooms and the empty quarters. One room had a couple of mattresses laid out to suffice as a sleeping area. The Calamity's fires burnt most of the train's fabrication, especially the outer walls, but the _Dacia_'s engine endured the heat. _He's just a lucky bastard_, Hungary thought bitterly. _Unless there were other things in play here… _

The Nation listened closely above her head for Romania. He was still on the train's roof having the blithe of his life. _Stupid asshat, _she scowled_._ _Who is driving this train then? _

Hungary settled on one of the warm mattresses for a rest. After a while she stopped caring about where the train was going or who was driving. She would just wait for the stop and attempt to jump Romania for answers again. Hungary should try a new tactic though. _ARGH! I shouldn't pursue this anymore, _she reconsidered despairingly. _It's not getting me anywhere! He's probably going to pull another trick up his sleeve! _Brushing off hair from her face,_ s_he yielded to exhaustion.

Hungary curled up on the mattress, feeling the chill of the breezy travel. She felt inside her pockets for any signs of a poking syringe. Unfortunately, Romania stole that away from her, too. She was completely unarmed – the last reminder she had of her German allies was now with him. Hopefully he would not get too curious and inject the rest of it in his body, although, he would probably want an explanation from her first.

_ What else does he want with me? To lose this game? _

Hungary had lost her people, and recently she's been losing arguments as well. She was up to her last strands of will and it was becoming hard to swallow the reality of the situation. Romania was winning with better advantage over her.

_He won the moment I woke up, didn't he? No…the moment when he buried me in the ditch was when he won… _

Sighing miserably, Hungary felt too drained of energy to shed any tears. Restraining her noisy cough was excruciating enough already. Throughout the whole dreamless night, she meditated and stared into nothing but a glimmer of light. The glimmer of hope.

"_The green stuff is working so well!" the little boy said._

After that single dream, it seemed that the little Gilbert had given her a clue that _both _of her allies were still around.

_ "Just you and me…"_

Alive.

* * *

**_Writer's Ramble:_**

Suntem curioşi de agenda ta. _(Romanian for: We are curious of your agenda.)_


	6. A Tilted Cross Marks the Spot

Super thanks to: **Marcy, Luna and Spinny**! I enjoy your company and support! I really do :D

Thank you to you and the communities that had accepted Retrace. Thanks **Pennilee!**

I will continuously address to every nook and cranny wrong with my work and update them, asap. It is my mission to continue to hunt down every pork chopping sentence and cursed commas here, as well as confusing parts.

* * *

**6: A Tilted Cross Marks the Spot **

_"We must not fear daylight just because it almost always illuminates a miserable world." - Rene Magritte (Belgian artist, 1898-1967)_

* * *

Switzerland had to stoop close to the earth to keep on the truck's tracks as a thick, heavy fog descended upon him to mock his search. Fingering the grooves on the ground, he made sure he was still following the right way. There were no more trees or wreckage wherever he was, and he did not like where the truck was leading him. Open places were a disaster magnet.

_Where is Belgium going?_ The thought tormented him. _Taking Lili's things as well as my own meant she really wanted me to follow her._

Switzerland looked around for any dark blurs of the vehicle beyond the fog. He could barely see anything and the heat and stuffiness of the clouds did not help.

The grey sky did not give him an answer to the time of day, and his senses betrayed him until he stopped trusting his nose. Gradually as if the fog willed to suffocate him, breathing started becoming harder to do. He felt like he was walking through what seemed like a never ending expanse of fog; it was as maddening as his delusions.

If anything or anyone were to ambush him, he was prepared to kill on sight instinctively and defensibly. Although he had nothing but a pocketknife and a grenade, he could still fight close combat no matter how vulnerable or weak he was starting to get. Switzerland quickened his search. He had to find her before his health worsened.

Drawing attention would at least mean _someone_'s attention, whether it would be Belgium or an enemy, he planned to disarm the attacker and plunder their supplies. If one had a long range sniper of some sort, they would not be able to shoot through such a heavy fog, and the hot, stuffy air would disable any infra red devices, if there were any. So he had no worries on those sorts.

Almost tripping over, Switzerland found the tracks again. The grooves on the earth disappeared to a paved road and there was a sputter of an engine farther ahead. Belgium had probably stopped for a moment to confuse him. Either that, or she had lost her way, or the truck had simply expired. Or maybe his ears were just confusing him? Switzerland was not sure, but he supposed that Belgium was making the truck fizzle.

His ears strained for that single sound of rubber and metal. Through the dense smothering grey, there was the little start again and he ran straight for it, instantly.

Fortunately, the fog thinned and the outline of the truck took shape. One of its fore-front wheels was wedged in a sinkhole. By the half-hearted guttural revs, Switzerland knew it would probably never run again. The truck was jammed there forever.

Belgium did not poke any weapons over the vehicle's windows for cover, but something told Switzerland that she was well-armed and well aware of his approach.

He circled, whispering her name in case she might mistake. There was no movement in the truck and he edged closer, worriedly.

"You dare come any closer!" cried a voice, stopping Switzerland dead on his tracks. The sound echoed and bounced around the air like some kind of distorted nightmare. "Stay back or I'll shoot!"

Switzerland could not locate where she was. Maybe he was just hallucinating all over again?_ Why is this so confusing, Lili? Where are you? _

"I'm sorry I took away your things," said Belgium; wherever she was. "You scared me with what happened to Liechtenstein! I figure maybe getting rid of the stuff would help –"

"Bel…?" Switzerland felt too dizzy to come up with a full reply. He heavily leaned against the truck, trying to steady himself; head throbbing, eyes drowsy and clouding.

Involuntarily, his palm swept something wet against the truck's metal door. Yellow paint. His misty eyes flickered to the spot where his hand swiped. There was an unfinished yellow 'X' freshly painted on the truck. _What is this? Who's done this?_ Instead of gasping, his mouth let out a raspy noise.

"I know you're mad," Belgium continued, "but I swear I can make it up to you! I know where we are and from here, I think there is a –"

"Bel! Did you…Where…? I can't – " Thick air snaked its way through his lungs, constricting his speech.

"Just listen! There are bunkers hidden somewhere near here! And I think there's an airbase a little farther north. If we could just get there on foot right now, before –"

"Belgium! I'm…I…" He searched for her but his head spun like a sudden turn of a wheel. The fog smelled terrible, it was rather intoxicating. His scarf did not help. Switzerland held on to the side of the truck –Belgium was no where. His lungs constricted. Maybe it was the sudden rush of adrenaline from his run? Was he dehydrated?

_Am I fainting? What?!_ _No, no, no! Not now!_

All of a sudden, his legs buckled and his eye lids batted shut.

"…Switzerland?" A distance away, Belgium's figure emerged with a rifle in hand and a filter mask covering her face.

"Oh Christ," Belgium gasped, and then she immediately rushed up to him. "Don't breathe this in!"

Before she reached his side the ground embraced Switzerland coldly as a frigid snow would welcome a fallen soldier. _"What have I done…?!"_ were the four words that followed him to deep unconsciousness…

* * *

A startling clamour made Hungary bolt up in a sudden frenzy. The moment her eyes settled on Romania's figure jumping in the quarters to join her, she stiffened. She expected the Nation to torment her or maybe scold her for sneaking in his train, but all he said was, "I knew you'd follow me, Magyar."

The moon was bright enough for her to see his silhouette and his dark eyes glinted red with mischief. In a weird way, she was reminded of Prussia.

Too tired to confront him, Hungary rubbed her eyes and let her words do the fighting.

"You stole something I want back," she growled. "Give it back, _Vlad_. Give. It. Back."

"Now I did say that's no longer my name." Romania approached her, he was holding something sharp.

"Jesus, just kill me already, you idiot!" Hungary loudly retorted. "You could have gotten rid of me a long time ago!"

Romania raised the sharp weapon over her and she waited for the strike, never letting her eyes stray from his dark glare.

His arm shook but lowered gently in front of her, fingers revealing the Immunity syringe. The needle still had all of its contents; Romania had not used a single drop. He situated himself before her like a child waiting for a bedtime story.

"Can't kill you yet," he said. "I'd look stupid doing so without proper reason – now explain this to me or I'll pull another prank on you."

Hungary shrank away. "I'm not telling you about it at all. You haven't said anything about this stupid train."

"Fair enough," Romania shrugged. "Forget it then." He deftly tossed the needle to her lap, stood up, and randomly tapped the train's wall with his knuckles until the sound rung throughout the whole wagon. "Honestly, Magyar, when I took that away from you I thought it was one of your _womanly needs_ or something."

"What?!" Hungary was thrown off guard by the awkward comment. She quickly secured the syringe in one of her pockets.

The Romanian Nation tapped the wall again with a smug grin. "Ah, we'll be experiencing turbulence shortly," he exclaimed.

Hungary tucked her legs around her arms and waited for the road bumps to pass.

In her eyes, Romania was a poor country. In the couple of years before the Calamity struck, demolitions, extreme government issues and strikes had been reported in the news, and then when the stories had reached her she had only felt apathy.

_He had lower standards of living, for cryin' out loud!_

Her mind racked. _How did he managed to keep his stupid rickety trains in tact and well-maintained?!_ All these thoughts were unbelievable to her but she should seriously stop thinking about this before her depressed herself all over again.

Earlier, Romania had not fully explained his mode of transportation to her. He had left this out. _So what else was he hiding?_ She pondered.

Hungary gave him a scrutinizing glance. "I thought you've only been traveling on foot across your stupid peasant country."

Romania ignored the insult. "Oh, I did for the most part," he replied, a tinge of boast to every word. "I just got lucky and found a couple of usable, crappy cars along the way."

A sudden jolt made the whole wagon violently shake that even Romania fumbled with his footing. Somehow despite the horribly decrepit railways, the train stayed on course and kept running. When Hungary resettled, she demanded for proper explanation with a commanding tone.

"Explain the train!"

The Romanian leaned against the wall by the opening and contemptuously looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "It's about time you rhyme…"

Hungary tightened her fists. "I'M SERIOUS!"

After a long exhale, the Romanian Nation finally gave in. "I have two operational trains. They're docked in specific places for safety reasons. My men and I only use them when extremely necessary – actually my men were the only ones who've been using them for the most part. Ever since June, they had been used three times. _Now_ would be the fourth and my second time riding.

"As for the tracks, most of our rails survived the wreckage but only a few remained in decent condition to travel on and only a couple of_ that_ we've been maintaining. It's too dangerous to exploit the trains, especially when fuel is running low.

"We were able to modify the two trains under our current circumstances. You can say these burnt trains devolved back to the 'steam punk era' –well, that's what Britain would call it.

"They are the only ones we can still refuel…and…well… If you're gonna ask about the fuel, talk to the crappy cars everywhere. My patrol men found just enough fuel to supply up to certain distances. Everything is kept in secret in case we encounter anyone abusive. We like our secrecy. Our cautiousness keeps the trains to our hands and it keeps us from using them all the time. Got it?"

Though Romania silenced her with his explanation, her mind flourished with new ideas of another escape plan like a ringing noise of an alarm._ Enough to supply to certain distances, you say? _Hungary repeated wistfully in her mind. Maybe the railroad to Austria remained stable. With enough fuel to travel, she could escape with this locomotive and drive westward. Then again, she would need a conductor because she hadn't had the tutelage to drive trains in the past

With a fist Romania rhythmically knocked on the wall again. Hungary found his strangeness infuriating when, all of a sudden, someone on the other side answered with their own knock echoing through. And just like that, the train slowly screeched to a halt.

Hungary did not want to jump to her feet but fear mounted within her and she edged away to a corner. Romania glimpsed at her momentarily then turned his attention back to the landscape outside. "Magyar, I don't think you have a ticket for this train ride," he commented.

The _Dacia_ halted to a stop and someone exited the engine room grumbling about a damaged railroad up ahead. "What's going on?" Hungary asked, heart racing. "Why did the train stop? Where are we?"

Romania twisted a corner of his mouth. "Let me guess, your next question is: why is the world not flat?"

A new comer entered their wagon. He was an old man in his late-sixties, who looked like another one of Romania's patrol men, but something was totally different about him. The person walked over to where Hungary stooped and he placed a plate of food before her with a kind-hearted nod and a faint smile.

"Watch it, Németh," Romania grinned, sounding like a puppeteer over the old man's actions. Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall by the opening, and watched intently. "The lady's demented with a bad case of the mulligrubs, if you know what I mean. She lost her femininity and resorted to a hell load of gobbledegook!"

Drowning out the Romanian's amusement and hysterical laughter, Hungary stared at the old man before her, his face seemed uncannily familiar.

The old engineer grunted awkwardly. "Eat well, miss. You look like you haven't eaten in a while."

Hungary could not contain her gladness. The engineer was Hungarian! He looked healthy and he was Hungarian!

"I'm sorry for my rude staring," she said, smiling foolishly. "I just –"

"She hasn't seen an old man in a while," Romania interrupted.

Hungary glowered at the other Nation before he theatrically looked away showing a mockery of concern. "I was going to say," she returned to the old man, "that I haven't seen a fellow Hungarian in a while."

The engineer blinked at her warmly, putting on a happy, wrinkly smile.

Hungary turned her attention to the offered food, her stomach grumbled, and she hastily reached for the plate to feast. She devoured every morsel of bread to the very crumbs, drank all the soup from the bowl until it emptied, and gulped down the cup of water in mere minutes. When her energy returned, her mind sung of thoughts of well-fed and healthy Hungarians, aside from the cannibals...

After the meal, Hungary eagerly bombarded the man, named Illes Németh, with loads of chatter, as if she was catching up with someone she had never seen in years. She purposely disregarded the mood outside and blithered on about subjects like the food they missed, and dresses, flowers and shoes she wanted to wear again. For a personified Nation, there was a naturally good, familial feeling when they were among their people. Hungary had needed this badly.

When Romania pranced out of the room to leave them some privacy, Hungary freely shared her childhood stories and military adventures, obviously unrevealing her life as a Nation. The old man reluctantly shared his own tale and mentioned his daughter.

"I actually have something from her, Miss." He fished out a white lace from one of his pockets, wrapped inside was a simple red and green hair pin. "It's one o' those things she'd place on her hair and one of the only things I got as a reminder from 'er."

Eyes glazed with sadness, Hungary had nothing to really show the old man in return – she kept the syringe to her own business. After they comforted each other with condolences, their chat inevitably led to a peculiar subject.

"Miss, if you don't mind me askin'…" Illes scratched his grey stubble for the words. "Have you seen any of yer old friends, besides Master Anghelescu?"

Hungary laughed for a moment. "He's _not _my friend. And no, I haven't seen Roderich or the others, but I'm sure they're still alive."

"Sound like strong lads. 'M sure they're fine…" Illes gave her a stern look, apparently more concerned for his leader than her lost friends. "Master Anghelescu is a kind man, young lady."

Biting her lower lip, Hungary managed a twitchy smile. _We tried murdering each other_, she said in her mind. _He's one of_ those_ kinds, all right._

Illes chuckled, as if he had read her thoughts. "I used to have this sort of trouble with my daughter. Can't do nothin' 'bout it. Not my business." The old man stood up and turned to leave. "All I knows is this: y'hate someone 'cause ye see part of yourself in 'em. I think you two 've so much more 'n common than y'can see."

The idea of being similar in any way to Romania made Hungary's stomach turn unpleasantly. She did not want to explain herself to Illes, and as if by luck, their conversation abruptly ended right when Romania impatiently announced, "The sun is up!"

The Nation was outside the train with a heavy bag slung behind him; his mask was loose to speak. He randomly blathered on about how there was no sun shining brightly on the sky and that it was all a joke against the grey. Seeing Illes, he motioned for a word. Hungary gave Illes a warm hug before the old man left to talk to him.

Hungary did not gain much liking to Romania at all. Just because he was providing for some Hungarians it did not mean she would forget their hate. Still she despised him coldly. Whatever Illes and he were talking about was their business and she made little effort to pay attention. She managed to overhear a word about trees and trains in their conversation.

Illes vanished to the train's engine wagon and Hungary was about to join him when Romania stopped her.

"He's safely guarding the train, Magyar," said the Nation. "You can come back to him once we walk a couple of miles from here and that'll take an hour or so."

Silently, she abided and they started southward through a burnt line of trees.

Along the way an unexpected guilty feeling rose in the Hungarian Nation. She realized that Romania had wanted her to follow him to the train and find out about Illes. Did he want her to know something by herself? Was he keeping other Magyars safely somewhere? And most of all, why did he want to help her at all?

Hungary wanted to keep quiet but she wanted to know the reasons. "I didn't know you'd saved some of my people," she mumbled, trying to hide a tinge of remorse.

"Magyar." The other Nation snapped, facing her with a tilted brow. "Listen, the guy back there just so happened to be Hungarian. Before the Calamity there were already bunches of _your_ folk at _my_ place because they just like _me _more than _you_. Understand that there is this thin line of tolerance I have for you, so don't EVER think things are different between us."

"There are more survivors?" Hungary glowed, her eyes rounded with optimism. "So you did save more of my people from –!"

"_Some_!" Romania responded uncomfortably. "I managed to save _some_. Don't get all –"

"And you've been taking care of them!"

"They took care of themselves! I only showed the way. Big deal. I don't care."

Hungary smiled tearfully at the news. Although she felt thankful for Romania's generosity, their grudge towards each other was still strong. Instead of outwardly thanking him, she kept her lips shut and hid a conniving sparkle in her eyes.

Time ticked for a couple of hours until Hungary finally insisted on knowing where they were. Perhaps if Romania gave her a map or direct answers she would not be so demanding.

She coughed out fluids again until Romania replaced her respiring mask. She put it on with plenty of complaints as usual, but her main concern remained to be about where they were heading.

Romania merrily replied, "In my side of the mountains!"

"Stop it," barked Hungary.

The Romanian just chuckled at this. "Now, if you're going to ask a bunch of questions, ask questions that don't have predictable answers."

"Well, I want predictable answers to understand what's going on!"

"In a way, that doesn't make any sense," Romania stated, a little annoyed. "You're confusing me, Magyar."

Hungary thought for a moment longer then she turned the tables of her questioning. She remembered his droll earlier in the train and said, "Okay. So, why _is_ the world not flat?"

Recollecting himself, Romania happily replied with a skip in his step. "Because the world isn't flat or else there'll be an end to it! The world is round and an endless spin, Magyar. If ever you get lost along the way, you reappear on the other side!

"For example, I'm heading further south from Craiova right now to find something, and if ever the world was flat, I will fall off the edge and thus, my journey ends. I will never find this something. Forever lost.

"See, the world was made round because this way we could keep turning. Round and round it goes with many directions to turn to and as for me," – he glanced at her for a moment – "I keep going."

Hungary rolled her eyes. _So to get to his answers I have to ask stupid questions_, she thought. "Interesting. To tick your brain I have to sink to stupidity."

Romania frowned. "_Prostii! _You tick me off just fine as yourself already. No need to sink that low. Though, I'm flattered you wish to impress me."

"Excuse me?!"

"You're excused, Magyar."

Hungary bit back her tongue. Inside she fumed and urged to beat him up to death again – but the main thing that continued to stop her was his control over almost everything she needed. _Under the circumstances, I will try not to kill him_, she tamed her mind. _To hell with this._

At last, after an hour through the dead forest of black-chalked trees, they reached a muddy, sopping ravine.

"He's around here somewhere," said the Romanian, opening his bag and pulling out a first-aid kit.

Unconcerned at first, Hungary got curious of who Romania was tracking. She wanted to bother him again for an answer, but she raised no question to avoid another silly argument. Whoever he was looking for, she hoped to find Austria, Germany, Poland or even Prussia. But to find any of her allies this far south seemed unlikely. Romania must be sensing Bulgaria...

The two Nations stalked along the lumpy banks, searching for any signs of life; from ragged cloth pieces to boot tracks if any. Behind Romania, Hungary secretly concocted an ideal assault against him yet again. This time she would not really kill him, just knock him unconscious, take his things and escape westward with the help of Illes. She also planned to retake the frying pan. _If he still has it with him._

As Hungary reevaluated her scheme over and over to keep her mind occupied, she suddenly bumped against Romania's intercepting arm.

He halted on the spot and hushed her like a child. Hungary smacked his arm away and followed his gaze.

A little further away from them was a figure of a man, slouching against a charred tree. His chest rose and fell and it was a sign that he was alive. His clothes were drenched and his pants were ripped on one side showing a fresh gapping wound across his left leg. The man's face was shadowed underneath a dark hood, and from a distance Hungary spotted a glint of a blade at the palm of his hand.

Romania randomly felt around his coat before he cautiously approached him. He muttered a friendly greeting with one hand raised and the other, placed to his side.

Hungary scowled at Romania's silly behaviour – he looked like he was about to recite an anthem rather than approach a possibly dangerous human. The stranger lifted his face to reveal his identity and Hungary could not tell if it was Bulgaria or –

"Turkey?!" she gasped at the sight of a familiar tan face.

Sure enough, it was Sadiq Anan, the personified Nation of Turkey under the hood and naturally his white mask hid jovial green eyes.

"Hey…yer Romania?" The Turkish Nation did not notice her. Before Romania had a second to say something, Turkey suddenly reached for Romania's arm and unexpectedly pulled him down to the blade of his dagger. It swiftly pierced through the Romanian's left side sounding a crunch.

It was so sudden that Hungary ran up to them, yelling, "Stop!" _How do I explain this to Illes?_

Staggering back, Romania prodded the blade's hilt painfully with his fingers. "Nice to see you too, crap," sputtered the Romanian, apparently directing the statement to Turkey and the inanimate object stuck in his torso.

When Hungary joined his side he randomly wiped a bloodied glove against her shoulder. Upset with the lunacy, she shoved him sideways and kept her distance.

Turkey coughed out blood onto his already filthy sleeve and leaned back. "Yeh, sorry," he said despairingly with a quivering smile. "That's that, I think…I could take on another one o' you! I wanna steal yer stuff and all..."

Turkey turned his attention to Hungary who glared at both of them with spite. "Yo," he called to her, barely able to lift up his arm to point. "Ye gotta have somethin' to eat and drink, right? Gimme some or I'll…I'll make you!"

Hungary wanted to knock some sense in Turkey. He was either delusional or turning mad. "Sadiq we're here to help – but you just stabbed – "

Turkey absently looked at her straight in the eye. "Help…? Hungary? Hey it's you! Heck, _I_ don't need help." The Turk nodded to Romania's direction. "_He_ needs help, doesn't he?"

Hungary turned to where the Romanian Nation stood. His side looked like it earned a fatal wound with the dagger's hilt protruding out of it. But the wound was barely oozing with blood through his coat.

Romania choked on his own laughter. Something slid down his coat the moment he pulled out the blade from his side. It was a thin wooden chunk sandwiched between two small pieces of metal and two kitchen sponges, wrapped up in rubber bands and bloodied from the ordeal.

Romania picked up the brick-looking device and stuck it on the dagger's bladed end. Grinning at the Turkish Nation, he waved it around like a bloody marshmallow on a stick, but it looked more like a sharp unappetizing shish kabob.

"I knew I'd find you here," he crowed, "and I've learned a thing or two from the past. That was one of the most likely spots you could strike me." Stylishly, Romania disposed the chunk from the blade and bowed, tipping his hat to them. With an over-animated voice like a television commentator he said, "Ladies and Not-so-gentle-Magyars, I had just demonstrated to you how to disarm the 'sick man of Europe'."

Turkey groaned at the statement. "Awe c'mon! Don't remind me!"

Hungary coughed. "Sadiq, anymore weapons I should know about?"

The Turk smiled and shook his head in an unconvincing manner.

"If you don't yield," the Romanian interjected with a threat, standing over Turkey like a vulture. "Care to meet my _Draculas_? I've got two, so that's double the bite, if you know what I mean."

"Okay, okay!" Turkey surrendered, wincing. He shamefully raised his arms to show them he had no other weapons in hand. "Yo, no touchy though! My body's hurtin'…" he whined as Romania searched him with little concern.

Turkey seemed fragile, like a withering leaf being crumpled under a jester's foot. "I'm achin'," he said, feeling slightly harassed. "Could ye at least be a lil' tender and – ouch!"

Romania stole away the Turk's satchel.

"Hey, hey! Not cool, dude!" Turkey protested. "I've got my manly things in there!"

Hungary wanted to beat up the Romanian on Turkey's behalf, but Romania simply walked away, flourishing a Dracula pistol, in case Hungary might attack him for the satchel.

Giving up, Turkey sat back wounded, and made no more effort to retake his things. The Nation sighed wistfully, as if ascending to another world. Hungary wondered what was going on beneath his milky white mask.

In the past, she rivaled with the man for some years, now seeing his body at this state – soaked to the bone and muddied by the water's edge – concerned her. Hungary recalled the time they had danced together at the last World Meeting. She started praying he would relight that wonderful energy again. It was not the same seeing him like this and under these circumstances.

She kneeled beside the fallen Nation and closely examined his wounded leg. Glistening with blood, the linear gash still looked fresh.

"What?" he panted, after she gave him a nervous look. "I tripped…'long the way…not sure…can't get up by myself though…"

Hungary noticed something else was terribly wrong with him. "Turkey, you're not all right," she deadpanned.

If something was internally excruciating, maybe she could find out reading the poking nerves along his arm. She was no nurse or doctor, like some other Nations, but she had some practice in the past wars. She could recall the one time she had patched up Austria…

Hungary folded Turkey's sleeve to check on the condition of his skin and she was appalled by the sight. Running down his flesh was a layer of partially burnt skin.

"Please, tell me you're only burnt on this arm." Hungary panicked when he winced.

Turkey reassured her that he was only burnt on the left half of his body. "I was burnt trying to save a buncha guys I found along the way…" He smiled. "It's healin' and peelin' though…not very appealin'…"

"Turkey, what else happened?" Hungary fixed him up to a sitting position, at least to prevent back sores.

The man tightened his lips. "I almost drowned this morning." He flinched. "I'm just recovering slowly, that's all. I'll be fine once I get going…seriously. I had…nice stroll…country burned…dude, walked all this way."

Romania reappeared into view with a stick in hand, Turkey's satchel slung around him. His side was still stained with blood but he did not seem fazed by the tainting red against his coat. With an unusual skip in his step and devious look on his face, he told her he was so close to finding something nearby – _or did he say someone?_

Worried for Turkey's health, Hungary informed the Romanian of his skin condition on his left arm. However, all Romania did was twist the corner of his mouth and walk up to her saying, "So what's left is a roasted Turkey, huh? Looks to me he's _all right._"

"This is serious!" Hungary gritted her teeth. She was about to assault him again when he suddenly displayed a baffled look.

"Stupid Magyar," he said with a touch of boredom in his voice. "Why don't you help me lug this pitiful turkey dinner out of his puddle, instead of just posing there, staring dramatically at the ravine? Don't be so useless."

"You're unbearable!" yelled Hungary, taking Turkey's left arm as Romania took his right.

Romania laughed and he could not resist another pun. "I know my _bearings_ more than you, at the moment."

This made Hungary swear to the brink of mad fury. Refraining from any more fuss, she contained her anger for Turkey's sake.

With the Turk's body weighing on their shoulders, Hungary flinched away from Romania's helping arm the moment he accidentally bumped hers. She did not like this so-seemed 'teamwork' but it had to be done. She felt the need to help Turkey and in order to do so, Romania had to be involved.

Hungary was not worried about Romania's own injury, since she would not mind it if he actually bled to death on the spot from his idiotic approach to Turkey. It was all planned out to make Turkey surrender his weapons and pretty much everything to Romania.

Hungary found Turkey's satchel by Romania's far side. She could not even reach for it as they were holding Turkey up and the Turk did not seem to care; he seemed tired and sleepy.

_Romania's a jerk_, she thought. Their insidious anger was still there, threatening to boil over any moment; no matter how many times Romania provided food, directions and whatever the hell he gave her, she still hated him.

_Illes said this stupid Nation and I had something in common,_ Hungary speculated. _'Common ground' is a bridge in a relationship, right? _

_ There's no bridge between us at all, silly Illes, couldn't he tell? I should have told him – I'll tell him when we meet again._

_There is no bridge between us. If there was I'd break it. I'd burn it._

* * *

"You really did not think this through," said the Swiss Nation, exercising his limbs to reassure nothing was broken. He had just woken up after three days of recovering from toxic inhalation and according to Belgium, the climate outside their shelter turned for the worse. Apparently on the second day while he was recovering, it rained a rather potent acid.

Three days ago, Belgium had made sure all of their things were safely hidden before Switzerland had managed to find her. She informed him of the few military bunkers located within a couple of miles from where the truck broke down. Belgium admitted that she had made a mistake leaving him with no gas mask for the intended pursuit, and after he had fainted she had to drag his body into one of the bunkers. She said she had plundered the other shelters and found no one alive. There was an isolated airbase nearby that she desired to explore later.

Luckily, the fog had not been dense enough to be lethal. Rest and fresh air were one of the only cures she knew for the toxins to leave the body's system, in this case anyway.

Belgium handed Switzerland a towel to wipe his face and a small ration of food for him to feast upon.

"I did mention you were a lunatic then," she claimed with a cheerful smile. "Any sane person would obviously run away from you at all costs with all that ghostly talk. Disarming you was for safety precautions. You really ought to–"

"You had no right to steal my things!" Switzerland shouted. Regaining his strength, he searched their bundle of artillery for his rifles. _I was depressed! _The young man thought angrily. _I was in denial! I didn't loose my mind!_

"Belgium, taking away my things did not solve anything but –" Switzerland stopped himself indignantly. Reviewing the closure he had with Liechtenstein, he sighed. Belgium patiently waited for him to continue yet all he said was, "Forget it!_"_

"I'm truly sorry…" Belgium concealed her distraught with a neutral tone. "I'll understand if you won't forgive me." She handed him a new set of clothes and Switzerland roughly took them from her. He removed his green military suit to replace the inside shirt with the ones Belgium supplied.

"There's nothing you can do now," he murmured.

Belgium stood up. "Well, aside from the airbase…" She scurried to look for something in one of their packs. "Let me show you what else I found. It'll brighten your spirits in a literal sense," –she pulled out a bottle of wine from one of the bags – "and it's something exquisite to drink away the sorrows. If you reach cloud nine after a few gulps, who knows what other ghosts you'll be seeing in –"

"I'm fine!" Switzerland snapped, getting to his feet. "That's one reason to becoming a lunatic, in _your_ case." He pushed away the bottle and regarded the shirt she gave him. As he undressed from his old sweaty tank top for the new white one, he felt the Belgian watching him with a curious eye.

He shot her a stern glare and she quickly looked away, blushing pink with embarrassment. _She's annoying_, thought Switzerland, putting on the new shirt. _She reminds me of Spain and France put together in one. _

_I should ask her about those yellow 'X' marks on the corpses and the truck_, he pondered for a moment. But he was still upset from earlier; her mistakes had cost him three days travel. And not only that, Belgium's daring actions slightly bothered his ego. He figured the subject of the yellow marks could wait, at least for the time being; he felt a little better, knowing something more the Belgian.

"I don't understand why and how you're so happy-go-lucky when we're in this hell hole," he said, impatiently buttoning up his green suit like it was a frustrating piece of floppy material on top of a crinkly white t-shirt. He wondered where Belgium had even found this shirt. Actually, he wondered where she found the wine bottle too.

Belgium put on a smile on her face, like what he said was a joke. "What's wrong with me being so 'happy-go-lucky'?"

"After all that had happened!" roared Switzerland, making the other Nation cringe. "The disasters?! The world?! Lili?! I don't get why or what you're so happy about! Look around! We're in HELL right now! You think you have everything under control? Well be more considerate and don't foolishly flaunt it all over the place because not everyone is feeling carefree at the moment!"

"Do you think I – ?"

"Everything does not always end well!" he strained. "Raising hopes would just make things worse! I've given enough hopeful views to the men and women I left behind. I told them everything will be all right but you know what happened? They killed each other – Death!" Switzerland brushed away a tuft of hair falling to his face; his fingers lingered on his forehead. "Utter chaos followed when their hopes were…were crushed. Destroyed. I abandoned them because I hope for something and…and it's just…IT'S JUST ANNOYING to keep ranting about it!"

Belgium opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

Switzerland's voice shook. "Everything does not always end well, Belgium. I'm sorry."

Mouth quivering, Belgium's eyes watered with pain and she blinked away a tear of realization. It was obvious she missed her own brother. Switzerland suddenly felt shame in the pit of his stomach, and when he quietly apologized again, it felt like hours before she acknowledged.

"I forgive you, Vash," Belgium said tightly, putting away the wine bottle for another time. "But have patience. I've had my share of madness, but I don't _lose _it like you do."

The Alpine watched her make way to the ladder for the bunker's opening. "You're lucky I'm used to blunt men," Belgium tersely commented along the way. She was about to go outside to do a perimeter check when Switzerland stopped her. "Bel, wait!"

Confused, she turned to him.

"Let's just get out of here," Switzerland directed. He seized his smaller weapons and strapped on his boots. Putting on his black coat, he hurried to her side plaguing her with more instructions.

"First of all we travel during day," he said. "We travel light to not waste time. Germany should sense us around here by now since we are in his territory. Maybe even Prussia is wandering around looking for people.

"I am willing to help you find your brother, Bel."

Belgium seemed baffled. "Vash –"

"Let's head out now to save time," he interjected with authority. "I climb out first and so long as –"

"Vash! I'm not Liechtenstein," cried Belgium. "Don't start treating me like how you'd treat her!"

Switzerland fumbled for his gloves, his words were distant. "I…I'm sorry. I forgot."_ Lili was never here, _he mulled over_._

As the Alpine absentmindedly packed up their things, he spotted something shadowed in the dark. His heart pounded in his chest at the sight of something that frightened him.

Amidst their pile of belongings was Liechtenstein's suitcase, neatly laid waiting under a shadow with her sketchbook unopened on top. He had almost forgotten to take time to read it.

Seeing what struck him, Belgium approached him, a little reluctant to bother his arrested state. "Do you need a moment alone, Alps?" she asked gently.

Switzerland had so many of those lone moments before but looking back now, misery wrote over them in blood red ink. He cleared his throat. "On second thought, I think I'll just stay in here for a little while," he said, "I want to read…" Before he realized what he was doing, his hands picked up the sketchbook.

He sat by Liechtenstein's suitcase and waited for his drifting hands to open the pages. Belgium appeared by his side with a flashlight and Switzerland looked at her at a loss of words.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm shedding some light on this subject."

Switzerland nodded awkwardly. Staring at the book, he took a deep breath, felt its wrinkled, hard-pressed cover and finally opened it.

Through Liechtenstein's drawings, he found a couple of pages with his own sketches and instantly he was reminded of the time she had made him draw animal pictures for her after a lesson. In the next page she had sketches of flowers and a shaky doodle of Austria which made him smile. He remembered the first time his sister had encountered Austria at the supermarket and the day ended with a satisfying tea party. The memory of the Austrian Nation made him wonder if he was still alive.

Switzerland recalled the last time the Austrian had made contact with him, and that was unfortunately, the first day of the Calamity. Their phone line had cut off before Austria could finish his urgent messages. Switzerland wondered if that had beentheir last conversation together.

Turning the page, he found Liechtenstein's will, dated on the event of the first recorded flash of the Calamity. It had been formally written by hand and glued on the sketchbook's page – stapled behind it was another letter. The first aspect of the will was personally for her country's re-establishment and the last paragraph briefly stated her possessions to be passed unto him. Her handwriting in the final couple of sentences trailed to mere inkblots, until she had not even finish signing her name. Switzerland lingered on the last muddled words of his sister will. "Big brother, I hope my passing will not burden…" it read.

Switzerland shakily let out a long sigh. He kept reminding himself that he was reading this for closure, not misery – he was _not_ going to soak up with tears again.

Out of the blue, he heard a whimper beside him. Belgium quickly excused herself and left him with the flashlight.

"I should go get ready," she said, sniffling. "We're leaving soon."

She took her things and climbed out of the bunker for some air. When the door slammed shut behind her, Switzerland turned over the will to the next letter, his stoic composure shaking.

This one was a lettercard, torn at the end with its last pieces gone. Switzerland remembered the moment he had scrapped this card but he did not expect Liechtenstein to have had treasured it all this time. Maybe it had held sentimental value to her.

Taped on its corner was a piece of pink fabric that he knew all too well was from Liechtenstein's first gift, those many, many years ago. It was a piece of the awkward, pink frilly pajamas she had given him. Switzerland had simply outgrown them, and when he had them donated, it seemed she had snipped a little remnant to cherish...

Glossy-eyed, Switzerland could not shake away the memory that repeated in his mind like a beating pulse. He raised the torn lettercard closer to the flashlight to read every word, once more:

_ Dear Big Brother,_

_I'm always grateful for what you do._

_Thank you very much for buying a ribbon for me today._

_It made me very happy._

_This gift is something that I've been secretly sewing every night._

_I hope you like it –_

Switzerland remembered. Laced around his wrist was the bright-purple ribbon he had given his beloved sister a long, long time ago.

The Nation grimly fished out a lighter from one of his packs and lit a flame. The memory stayed in his mind and the words he had said then, resounded like a haunting song. _She didn't have to_, he had said. _Silly girl…_

The Alpine watched the flame scorch the pages of his sister's sketchbook.

_ She didn't have to._

Switzerland exited the bunker with all of his things, and he closed the door behind him. He left behind a fire to engulf the last of Liechtenstein's belongings, but two: the velvet around his wrist and her will she had left for him.

_ Closure._

* * *

_**Writer's Ramble **_

_Prostii!_ (Romanian for Nonsense!)


	7. Divided

**7: Divided**

**(~)**

* * *

Romania was annoyed. He was just flat out annoyed.

Hungary was at arm's length and the Turk hung over them like a heavy yoke. As they furthered away from the train station, Hungary protested incessantly to return to Illes and also argued for Turkey's condition. In the meanwhile, Turkey lazily staggered in between them, too tired to further complain and too interested with Romania and Hungary's bickering.

After minutes of deliberation and complaints, Romania and Hungary finally came to an agreement to patch up the Turk. Hungary bandaged his wounds after applying medicine from Romania's first-aid kit. But Romania, on the other hand, felt no concern for Turkey whatsoever and the moment the man was ready to move on again Romania led them further down the ravine.

He insisted on continuing his search for Bulgaria whether the other two liked it or not. He refused to let them return to the station without his friend. Though Hungary outwardly voiced her rage on the matter, he kept his focus.

Romania was surprised when a nauseating wave of dizziness made the world temporarily turn him around. He had been so focused on finding Bulgaria that he had forgotten about the wound in his side, slowly oozing out more and more of his blood, unhindered. The wound was small, thanks to his so-called brick-blade-stopper, but it had been dripping red on his coat, leaving behind a slithering blood stain. _They can't kill me_, Romania reassured himself, wincing from the cut. _Either of them can't get rid of me that easily_.

Eventually, they stopped for him. He hurriedly bandaged his injury and soon after, they were on the trail again, Romania feeling as focused as ever to find his friend. The two other Nations struggled to cope with his navigational directions, which seemingly made no sense at times. When Turkey wanted to stop and rest, Romania wandered around frenetically to see if Bulgaria was anywhere nearby.

"Ouch!" Turkey faltered when they plowed him onwards again. "Watch it, Hungary!"

"_You _didn't?!" Hungary eased her pace and turned a cheek. "Sorry Sadiq, it must be your leg," she said tiredly with a weak smile. "Does your burn marks still hurt, though? You haven't complained about your left arm."

Romania suspected something between them, so he questioned her, "Since when have _you_ started caring for _this _guy?"

"Burnt marks are doin' fine," Turkey muttered, "thanks to the ointments and bandages ye put on 'em…"

Hungary spoke over the Nation to Romania. "Since when have _you_ started caring for what and who _I've _been caring about?"

Romania gave her a sideways glance. _They're in cahoots,_ he figured.

"Dammit, for Sultan's sake Romania!" whined Turkey. "Could ye at least tell us where in hell we're going and who the heck we're lookin' for? I oughta know this! I'mma limpin' here for ya! At least – at least slow down and tell!"

Romania neither slowed his pace, nor did he give a straight answer. As usual.

_It's none of their business,_ he thought. _Though unfortunately, under the current circumstances… _

"Everything everyone's business, recently," Romania sighed. "Too bad I'm not sharing everything." Smiling, he led them on, ignoring whatever questions Turkey was asking.

At one point Turkey begged to know about his lost friends, Greece and Japan – and Romania heard something about Cyprus, but he shrugged off every question and every name the Turk put out. When Turkey asked him what he was planning to do, if they happen to find Bulgaria, he remained ominously silent, unwilling to reveal any more of his secrets.

_ It wouldn't be a called a _hidden_ agenda, would it? _Romania pondered in jest.

All of a sudden, Hungary smacked him in the back of the head to pay attention. He instantly got quite irritated to the point of yelling, "Magyar, quit doing that or I will feed you to f*cking wolves!"

Hungary egged the topic to her favour. "I've named damned dogs in my country after you."

"You're too kind," Romania mumbled. "You did not have to hit my head to start a conversation."

"You should meet my pet _Alex_ the German Shepherd."

"Love to."

Turkey naively joined in saying, "He pants!"

Romania shot him a look. "I'm sure?"

"His b*tch's a pure-bred Hungarian!"

"Turkey, are you saying this _Alex_ she owns mated with a Hungarian dog?"

"Excuse me?!" Hungary gaped.

Turkey grinned at both of them. "Alex, meet Eliza!"

At the same time, Romania and Hungary dropped Turkey. Disgusted by the insult, they walked away in opposite directions leaving Turkey to writhe on the ground in a combination of mirth and agony, coughing and laughing at the same time. Romania did not find the insult humorous, or sarcastic. Actually he did not know where the doggy joke would categorize in his list of jokes and insults – how unique it was that it had made fun of both him and Hungary. It was quite clever.

After a fit of humour, Turkey finally apologized and called them back with a pleading voice. Romania hesitated, but when he saw Hungary reluctantly pick up the Turk and forgive him, he followed.

Romania did not look at her when he slung Turkey's arm around his shoulders again. It was not that her insults had not bothered him before; it just felt strange hearing one after all he had done for her, involving Illes.

Quaintly, he brought up his deed to maybe make her feel some regret or at least feel sorry for –

"DON'T you dare talk about Illes and the people you saved," Hungary snapped, avoiding his gaze. "I still loathe you! Nothing's changed between you and me, just because of a few favors."

Romania snorted contemptuously at this. Well, he did not really expect an apology from her, more like an 'oops-I'll-tone-down-the-insults-for-a-little-bit' . But then again, he felt a tinge of gladness that nothing had changed between them. _That was at least a remaining constant in this ever shifting world of gloom, _Romania said in his mind.

At the end of the afternoon, he started feeling bored along the way; he could hardly consider either of his companions conversation-worthy. Actually, he had had enough of the two that he started thinking about getting rid of both them both completely.

_I do know of a spell to cast them away from the face of the earth_, he mused. And yet the two Nations, as much as he deeply hated to admit, would really be of good use when he returns to Cluj. _I'll just have to put up with them for…oh, for a hell of a while…_

The three Nations chose an eerie spot to settle for the evening. They were in the middle of what used to be some sort of a National Park south of his country, at the banks of the Danube. Boulders had built an island in the midst of a murky body of water.

The water was shallow enough to wade, and it did not appear to be radiated or polluted with toxins. The marsh-like expanse surrounded three-quarters of the boulder island; a dirt trail conveniently bridged them to it. Romania thought it best to camp at the boulders since it was easily guarded by the marsh, like a protective moat around a castle. He even quoted how the cannibals were dim-witted enough to clumsily approach through the water. He said they would make enough sound before they could even reach the island.

It was not hard to camp on the island – the boulders were set up like a pyramid. Romania settled at the lowest rock while his two 'happy-go-evil' companions desired the highest flat ones at its the peak. Anyway, Romania had insisted Turkey to be at the very top most boulders to keep – and protect – the Turk from any strenuous activity below since he was injured.

"If any danger does come, I'll face it with magic first," Romania grinned.

Hungary did not argue at all, she actually smiled at the thought of him being killed first. After another coughing fit, the Hungarian climbed up the rocks to join Turkey with a load of goods stolen from Romania's pack.

Within moments, night fell and their only light source was a completely unreliable moon. None of them felt bothered – they were much more worried about what a mere candlelight might attract.

At the foot of the boulder, Romania laughed when he overheard a couple of petty complaints coming from the other Nations. Hungary complained about the food – of course she commented on everything Romanian-related, even the moon, strangely enough, relating it to Romanian witchcraft.

"Ugh!" she spat. "I don't like this." She looked over to where Romania sat below and called, "You and your cabbage rations are revolting. What happened to the canned-soups?"

Leaning against the cold rock face, Romania hesitantly looked up at her with tired eyes. "Last time I checked you were a Hungry-Hungary. Not a Picky-Bitc –" he broke off to yawn. "Y'know what I mean."

Hungary threw a fruit peel to his head. "_Romani_, you sicken me."

"Is it working?" Romania felt belittled by the name 'Romani'. "Let's see, a _sick_ man of Europe and now a _sick_ dog," the Nation chuckled, brushing off the peel from his hair. "Somebody's contagious and I wonder if it's me."

"I'd rather be back at the train station!" cried the Magyar.

At this, Turkey suddenly hollered, "Say what?!"

_Oh, yeah. _Romania massaged his temple. No one mentioned anything about the trains to Turkey; they had only said something about a station, but even then, Turkey had not paid any attention. Before Romania could illustrate, Hungary filled in all she knew for the Turk; from the new map of Europe, to the trains and to Romania's goal on traveling to Ukraine.

_Oh, yeah..._ Romania smiled. He had left out other bits and pieces of details; Hungary and Turkey were only informed of what he had told them so far. _Not everything, _he thought, reminded of the boats and the Cluj cave…

Turkey laid one hand on his bandaged leg, while the other shoveled loaves of bread to his mouth. He excited over their plans to go to Ukraine and hoped to find more Nations along the way, yet out of all that explosive information, Turkey questioned the trains.

"So ye got freakin' trains and ye don't brag about it?" The Turk's voice carried so much disbelief, it sounded scornful. Romania covered his ears and turned away; unfortunately, he could still hear the sounds of ridicule.

"How is _that _even possible?" Turkey chewed and swallowed the bread in his mouth. "The whole place turned damned after the 'quake! Railways don't frickin' survive that shit! Ye couldn't even do stuff before and yer rails survived?!"

Crumbs sprinkled on Romania as the Turk ranted on about how the Romanian economy was not as good as his. Hungary also joined in, babbling on about Romania's strange ways and even explored the subject of his magical nonsense. In the conversation, Hungary certainly did not leave out any insulting jokes.

Meanwhile, the Romanian embodiment continued leaning against the boulder just staring into space. He stayed silent and ignorant of the jargon above him. What else could he do? Both of his rivals started scheming against him and he ran out of any more retorts for their hurtful comments.

He was sick of it and he still questioned himself why on earth he was still caring for them at all. Slaving away to their needs was awful. Why did he still provide for them? _Hell of a while, _he contemplated._ Hell of a while it's gonna be… _

Throughout the whole night, Romania was sure he felt Bulgaria nearby numerous times. He paid close attention to every sound alertly with each passing second. Oddly, the feeling flashed, like a pulsing light. A pulsing heartbeat.

There would be Bulgaria – then no. Then there he maybe, another inkling sensation. Then nothing. Then there! Then no. Then there! Then suddenly, just like before, it would slowly fade away and disappear again. Like a ghost.

_Creepy but cool_, thought Romania. Or maybe he was being fooled? Romania clawed his hair in frustration. _Where's a tracking spell or a GPS when you need one? I hope he's okay. What am I saying? Of course he is! He's alive! He's just around the corner…Alive…Pulsing…_

The Nation tucked himself between his bag and Turkey's satchel, which was clearly forgotten about by its owner. Curious and a little bored, he peered inside and rummaged through Turkey's things. He found a couple of empty bottles of _raki, _wrapped green food –which he secretly disposed into the marsh before the Turk could smell it– and a box of tiles with numbers on them. 'Okey' it was labeled. Romania closed the bag. So Turkey was trying to keep sane with a game of Okey?

_ Hilarious, _he wondered, and yet deep down he thought it was a great idea_. To keep rational sense with nonsense, of course!_

Turkey and Hungary above him settled down their taunting and finally rested on the blankets – which Hungary had stolen from his bag, and which he had provided considerately for the travel. Lifting his mask to breathe and too sleepy to keep watch, Romania drifted into a light nap.

_Maybe Turkey will keep an eye out, _he figured._ Well, whatever…Bulgaria's around…no cannibals in these parts…water here…_

When he closed his eyes, Romania dreamed about Cluj's buildings and his man-made cave. After listening to the other Nations' disbelief, Romania's ego felt slightly bruised. They had done this to him before, what was so different now? Right. The world ended.

Romania tossed to one side. _Well, they were wrong about one thing,_ he thought. Not all of him survived and they did not know everything that had really happened. Despite being glad that many of his people did survive, he still felt pangs of remorse whenever he would remember the many who had died. He simply didn't show it- he didn't need to give them _another_ reason to taunt him.

He was lucky enough to have saved some things. Some bits and pieces…

However, he had depressingly lost a large population of people and a portion of his landmass. He had shown them a map of the damaged areas but he left out the details of the state he was in. Not that they would care about him anyway. Still.

The eastern coastal parts and the southernmost towns of his country were either submerged in water or zoned to uninhabitable. But even with half of him gone, he made it this far in descent shape. He traveled for hours on end, treasured his railways, kept his boats hidden and….and made it this far. So far…

Romania slowly blinked his eyes open. He could not stop feeling like there was something far worse yet to happen to him. Not that he was afraid.

He quickly brushed the grim thoughts aside with a comical notion. _Maybe the reason why I'm still here is to raise my cavemen, ha, ha! _He smiled to himself, reminded of the families waiting for him back in the caves.

_O să revin mereu, Nadia…_

Time passed slowly that night, Romania tried sleeping but his mind kept him wide awake. It was far past midnight when he overheard Hungary and Turkey starting a whispery conversation above him. He could not see them but he strained his ears to listen. Their little chat was about nightmares and not being able to sleep. No surprise, their some parts of their discussion was about him.

"Turkey, I don't know what else he's up to but I know that jerk took us out here to find his boyfriend!"

"He's dancin' 'round to catch Bulgaria's attention..." he heard Turkey reply. A heavy pause followed before he spoke again. "Hungary, is Bulgaria still alive?"

_Of course he is, you Frickin'-Gobbling-Piece-of-Poultry! _Romania wanted to burst, but he refrained and continued his sleeping pretense.

"Turkey, I…I don't know. But if we're still out here tracking someone, I believe it _is_ that Bulgarian running around alive."

There was a pause on Turkey's part. A thought suddenly frightened Romania when Turkey had silenced himself. _Is Bulgaria still alive?_

He realized he had totally overlooked something. Bulgaria should have actually encountered Turkey first, before he and Hungary did. If Turkey had trekked across Bulgaria's turf to get to Romania's land, the Nation should have sensed a trespasser crossing his country and therefore approach him. Unless things happened…

Shuddering, Romania reassured himself Turkey had traveled through water, so sensing the Turk could have been difficult for Bulgaria.

Romania heard Turkey release a long, shaky exhale. "I prob'ly should tell ye how ye found me at the ravine, then," began the Turk. "I guess it's about time anyway." Turkey turned his voice low and Romania listened to every word.

"I found Egypt before the flashes hit. The guy's preparations weren't as intense – he and I…we suffered badly. He was really wounded with more burns than I. Turns out, he was on his way to my place before the unexpected happened. Good thing we sorta found each other at Istanbul.

"I figured maybe Greece, Japan or even Cyprus would show up too and find us. So…we stayed a while longer…Lot o' stuff burnt. Egypt was…well…he was really hurt – I tried my best, dammit! There was not enough frickin' ointments and shit lyin' around t' help!"

Turkey swallowed. "Cyprus showed up, but Egypt didn't – make it."

Romania heard Hungary mutter an apology followed by a hopeful note on Cyprus being alive, but Turkey just went on, every word sounded like a heavy breath.

"Cyprus… I was overjoyed when I found him, yeah. He invited me to leave everythin' behind t'head west for America and all, but I refused his invitation. Heh. I suggested we find Greece first. And ya…Cype followed me 'round to look for the guy. We didn't expect the land t' be so diff'rent. So we ended up takin' detours and longer paths to get across and into Bulgaria. Couldn't find a good boat, nor make one out of the burnt trees and debris."

Turkey stopped to sniffle. Romania's mind pounded. _Bulgaria__ should have encountered Turkey first!_

"Turkey..." Hungary murmured cautiously as if Turkey would break by the very question. "Is Cyprus…?"

"Cyprus," echoed Turkey, his voice sounded thin and hollow. "I lost sight of him at a trade post south from here…I think he just wen' astray, 'tis all. But I know I'll find 'im around! He's probably lost. Now I'm out here, lookin' for both Greece and Cyprus and maybe find Japan too." Turkey shuffled and it sounded like he was preparing to rest. "Then I find you, hell and Romania," he finished with a deep sigh.

"I heard my naaaame…" Romania interrupted sleepily.

"This is none of your concern!" the Hungarian shooed.

Before Romania could retaliate, he instantly sensed something appear nearby. The suddenness frightened him. He bolted up to his feet and rigidly posed to fight. He blinked his eyes wide open to what emerged from the shadows. He supposed the 'thing' he sensed wanted to strike while they were too distracted to notice. Behind him, Hungary and Turkey were shocked at a familiar silhouette looming distantly away.

"Funny how life plays, Ro," enticed the shadow, moonlight cascaded faintly on one side of his face. Romania felt the wind off his lungs the moment he recognized the intruder.

Perched on one of the boulders with a spear in hand, was the Nation he had searched for all this time. He could not help but blindly run towards him, crying out his name.

"Bulgaria!"

* * *

The bunker burned inside. Red and yellow flames lit the night before it was engulfed by black smoke. Darkness again. From a distance, Switzerland watched the scene through the lens of his filtration mask which Belgium had supplied.

He regretted burning Liechtenstein's things like this. It felt like he disposed her a little too abruptly but he also felt he had to finally move on. Somehow, regrets just kept piling up on his shoulders. He yearned for redemption.

Switzerland looked around for Belgium. Furious from what he had done to the bunker and Liechtenstein's belongings, she had left him to go to the deserted airbase a little ways from here.

"HOW COULD YOU?" she had yelled, the moment he had shut the door behind him before the fire. He had not looked at her, nor answered her. All he did was trudge to a nearby cliff to watch the flames.

He could hardly see anything in front of him now. He blamed the mask, though he knew his tears were the reasons that blurred everything.

Switzerland slung his bag behind him and journeyed to this airbase she mentioned. _If she keeps disappearing on me like this_, thought the Swiss Nation, _I will seriously lecture her, like I would –_

Switzerland stopped himself. He was not going to be reminded of Liech – No. No, no.

Dawn greeted him when he reached the deserted aerodrome. He felt drowsy and exhausted, and the place reeked with leaking gasoline and decay, that it was unpleasant enough to hold him wide awake.

Large airplanes had crumbled on the side of the runway; some were burnt and destroyed to no use. The large terminal building was nothing more, but mere diagonal pieces of metal and wood. The airstrip was lightly damaged, thank goodness, and on the opposite end of the field, stood a wide hangar filled with what looked like small planes.

He found Belgium exploring the remains of a large passenger plane across the terminal.

"_Guten morgen!_" she beamed, taking off her mask. "And _bonjour!_"

Belgium smiled at him with light in her eyes. It seemed like the earlier events were forgotten, but he could still picture the burning flames of the bunker, engraved in his mind; his sister's things swallowed in fire…

"What will it be, Vash? German or French or…? Um. Never mind." Belgium awkwardly dropped the matter, sensing his gloomy mood. "You could take off your mask here," she suggested. "The air's all right. Just stuffy. But not as stuffy as breathing through a mask, trust me."

Switzerland tightened his lips. He would rather keep his mask on until his eyes would clear up, and he would rather hide his glumness for the time being.

The other Nation looked around; her gaze shifted to the wide hangar. "Um…We should go look in one of those," she said slowly. "I found us enough fuel to spare and maybe we could find a ride?"

Switzerland made no reply. He kept his head low and avoided Belgium's gaze as she reluctantly led the way across the airstrip. Belgium said a few things along the way, but his mind was just too preoccupied to listen intently. He acknowledged her concern with slight nods and grunts. That was all.

The hangar was too brilliant to ignore, though. Switzerland looked up and marveled at its suspiciously glorious condition. The supports were well maintained, like someone had rebuilt it after the Calamity. The roof was still intact and inside the planes were arranged as if someone was –

_ Klunk! _

Belgium heard it too. "Vash, hurry!" She had her rifle at a ready with one hand, her other motioned him to duck under the nearest plane wing. Switzerland had seriously forgotten to ready his gun. Even with almost all of his ammunitions on him, he felt unprepared and quite spaced out. He fumbled, sloppily readying his gun with haste, though his mind was still full of thoughts of Li –

"Switzerland, focus!" Belgium pulled him behind a red plane wing. They were well hidden from whatever was making the noise.

It emanated from the opposite opening of the hangar. There were a couple of footsteps and muffled words exchanged along with the familiar: _Klunk, klunk! _Then suddenly a _Phooooooooosh!_

Whoever was making the noise, it sounded like they were using something made of metal cylinders like…_cans?_

Spray cans. Switzerland scrambled to load his rifle before taking off his mask. He had to see this for himself. Creeping low and ignoring Belgium's protests, he stalked through the planes and materials to the other hangar entry. He peered over a tool shelf by a metal broken door and the moment he saw the perpetrators of the noises, he aimed his rifle straight at them.

The three figures were cloaked in the colours black and white; their hooded sweaters were the typical loose, cheap brand and their white pants were splashed with yellow paint, mud and dirt. The three hoodlums had a belt load of yellow aerosol cans for graffiti. They were wearing cheap masks that only covered their nose and mouths, like the ones used for combating disease, or by a doctor during surgery, or in their case, filtering the smell of intoxicating paints. They had black painted swim goggles on, which actually made them look silly rather than sinister. They looked like they were from a stealthy vandalizing gang; two were in their late teens and one looked only fourteen years of age.

Switzerland shifted over for a closer look. He heard Belgium starting to move her way to his position, but when she was close, he left his spot and decided to reveal himself to the hoodlums, his rifle, still pointing straight at them.

"No one move or I shoot," threatened the Alpine. The youngest of the hoodlums, spraying the wall, dropped his can and held up his arms. The other two hesitantly followed, their hands raised to surrender. Switzerland was surprised that they did not appear to be armed with anything. Then again, their baggy sweatshirts could house a number of lethal weapons, so he kept his gun pointed at them in any case.

He walked over to view what they were painting. Yellow Xs were done all over the hangar door along with a sketch of a...a yellow bird?

Lowering his rifle, Switzerland felt his mouth part in shock, and then he glanced at the hoodlums. Suddenly, the youngest boy frantically threw an empty spray can at him – thinking it would knock him out. When it pitifully missed, the boy ran for it, leaving behind his two brothers at a surprised stand still. The youth nimbly climbed over the airport fence and escaped into the wasteland.

In front of the two remaining hoodlums, Switzerland dropped his weapon, saying, "I mean you no harm." But the two hoodlums quickly exchanged glances and sped off in their friend's direction. Switzerland ran after them.

Breathing hard, he yelled desperately for their attention back. "STOP! I know Gilbert Bielshmidt! Tell him – tell him we're alive! Tell Gilbert –!"

The two hoodlums leapt over the fencing, and vanished into a yard of wreckage before they could hear another word out of him. Switzerland slammed his fists against the metal coils.

"Tell him, we're here…"

The Alpine listened to their footsteps fading away as they hurdled through obstacles in the midst of wreckage. He should have pursued them, but it would have been tiring with the bulk he carried. Switzerland slowly headed back to the hangar and found Belgium viewing the vandalized wall like it was a piece of art.

He joined her, still avoiding her eyes. They stood there, staring at the graffiti of crosses, 'X's and little Gilbird-like birds scattered all over the wall. Belgium excitedly pointed out a little statement at the corner by the hoodlums' signatures. "_Lang lebe Preußen_!" it said.

Switzerland faintly smiled with relief. Prussia was alive after all. And he was somewhere around here, making kids run around painting his name all over the place. But –

"This does not make sense," Switzerland finally spoke, after a long moment of staring at the wall. "If Prussia's around, shouldn't he have approached us? We are in his territory."

Belgium picked up Switzerland's rifle and handed it to him. "I don't remember Prussia making any sense," laughed the Belgian Nation. "I'm not even sure why he's letting kids run around like this. They were unarmed and who knows what else is lurking around here that might hurt them.

"You're right, though. We _are_ in German turf and if Gilbert or Ludwig were around they should've located us by now, or at least have sensed our presence here. Especially mine, since I've been here longer than you," Belgium claimed before striding back to the arrangement of planes inside the hangar.

"If none of them had sensed us by now," she wondered, "then that could also mean that they are probably not even _in_ their country to begin with."

"These writings could mean something else," Switzerland grimaced. "To pay tribute, or to vandalize the abandoned, or to terrorize the claimed. We still don't know."

Belgium worriedly looked at him. Then he finally told her about the markings on the two bodies from the campsite and the one painted on the truck at the fog where he fainted. It was all too random and none of them seemed to line up or connect with each other. It felt as if the hoodlums were trying to lead them astray.

Belgium questioned no further. Switzerland followed her to a small red aircraft with a propeller and they prepared their leave.

He helped Belgium carry jugs of aviation gasoline from one of the crumbling passenger planes outside, to their chosen aircraft. They spent the whole morning fueling the plane, testing out the propeller and engine, and finally loading its hollowed carrier with their things.

Switzerland was slightly impressed by Belgium's choice. The little red plane was in far better shape than the rest – those had large dents, crusty seats, burnt wheels, malfunctioning throttles, broken controls, damaged ailerons, melted levers, or loose screws in the engines.

By noon, after they had rebuilt the rest of the airstrip with flat metal and wood planks, they ate lunch. Soon after, they uncovered a helmet and a headset which they fixed up for the flight. The headset was useless, Switzerland argued, but Belgium desired to use it for the fun of wearing one, even if there were not enough electricity in supply.

The mere mention of electricity concerned Switzerland. According to Belgium the plane's engine would function with enough fuel and it had had enough operational electricity to manage a long flight to the coast. "It's no electric car, but it's got some juice to take us north," assured the Belgian. "There should be lots of people there who could help us. I could land us to a pit stop, if you like."

Belgium tested the engine a couple more times before lumbering the little aircraft carefully through the hangar. Switzerland stood, grounded on the airstrip, unfolding his map, as Belgium pulled the plane to the open runway. She turned it off and peered over to him.

Standing on her seat, Belgium opened the cockpit's glass casing and exclaimed, "I think this whole thing has Prussia written all over it! He must have had something to do with keeping this place in tact!" The Nation turned to the hangar and opened her arms wide as if to embrace the whole building of little planes at once. "For that, I give an air hug!"

Switzerland looked up from his crinkly map. "We should hurry if we're going to find more Nations," grunted the Alpine, meeting Belgium's eye contact after a day of avoidance.

The emerald hope in her eyes made him think of his sister all over again, it pained him. He saw the heartache in the Belgian too, before she slumped in the pilot's seat, and hid her face. Switzerland supposed the minor scold had reminded her of the brother she dearly missed.

He put away his map and tuned on his radio – one of the only things in his bag he had kept from the fire. _They weren't Liechtenstein's,_ he thought with assurance. _I had left behind Liechtenstein's things…_

He checked his radio for any communication signals, but it only hummed. He asked Belgium for her opinion if it may be broken, but she was extremely surprised it was actually working. Switzerland countered her and claimed it had weird fluctuations and interferences before. Those silly buzzes had told him it worked. Now that it was just humming monotonously, and it seemed like it had ceased functioning. No frequencies interjecting, whatsoever.

"It must be the – um…" Belgium wanted to bring something up, but he knew what she was going to say.

"No. This thing does not read paranormal activity, Bel." He put away the radio and ended the subject. Climbing in the back seat of the plane's cockpit behind Belgium, he insisted on carrying two of his rifles by his side, along with a few pocket-sized weapons.

Belgium laughed. "Well, I guess they will be useful when we hunt the livestock in the air!"

Switzerland shot her an annoyed look. "You were going to say something about pigs flying, right?"

The other Nation smiled, blushing. "Spain made that joke once –" she froze, absentmindedly resting a finger on one of the panel switches in front of her. She took a long moment to take in what she had just said.

Switzerland fiddled with his seat-belt and waited for Belgium to start. Clearly, he did not know what to say when she mentioned her old friend's name so all he did was lie back in his seat in silence.

They planned to leave the airstrip during nightfall to prevent intruders from seeing their take off in daylight; though they hoped the hoodlums would show up before they leave. _Passing the time will get really awkward when it's just going to be conversations about long lost friends_, thought the Alpine Nation. The topic was unavoidable, but nightfall was hastily approaching anyway, so maybe he did not need to worry about any awkward conversations if –

"Do you think they're okay?" Belgium asked. She sounded so distant from her usual cheerfulness, it took Switzerland by surprise. She did not turn to him when she continued. "Italy, Spain, and Romano, I mean...Do you think they're all right?"

Switzerland searched for a quick answer, he felt uneasy about this. "Bel, right now, I know nothing. I was hoping you'd tell me."

Belgium did not stir.

Troubled, Switzerland leaned forward to the back of her seat. "Sorry, but I was isolated in my own country for the longest time. I know only what there is to know from who I meet."

Belgium made an impatient noise. "So, you _don't_ think they're all right."

"It's Italy, for crying out loud!" scoffed the Alpine. He was more concerned of other things at the moment; his country, for example.

He heard Belgium let out a chuckle. "You seriously know what to say." The Nation faced him with a spark in her eyes. "You know what – you're right! They must be fine. The Italian brothers have the Spaniard who endured a whole lot of hell before this! They're in good hands! I know Spain better than most."

Switzerland rolled his eyes. "Spain's endured a lot of failures before this."

"You _seriously_ know what to say," Belgium laughed, day dreaming about her Spanish friend. Switzerland groaned and impatiently reminded her of their scheduled flight.

Shadows lengthened behind jutting pieces of wreckage as the light of the sun began to set. Belgium listed all the things brought on board and Switzerland rechecked and secured everything around his seat; gas masks, bandages, canned rations, his black scarf, his rifles and other essentials. They were set to leave with a press of a finger but Belgium was still hesitant.

She wheeled around to face him again. "Can I ask you something?"

In the back of his mind, Switzerland could guess what she was going to inquire. Annoyed by her many questions, he looked out of the cockpit, his fingers feeling the violet ribbon laced around his left wrist. He could feel the Belgian eyeing him.

"What happened, Vash? What happened to you?"

Switzerland remained silent, his expression unchanging. Belgium slowly reached out her hand to the ribbon tied around his wrist. Switzerland quickly flinched away from her fingers like they were ice cold knives. He glared at her, eyes rounded and wild.

"MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!" he yelled with outright indignation. "You've seen me delusional already! What more do you WANT?"

"I just want to understand –"

"She DIED okay?" Switzerland clenched his fists, they shook with every word. "I left everything behind! Let's leave it at that!" Their eyes met suddenly, and he blinked. Belgium looked tired and frail – something he had seen before in Liechtenstein.

A week ago when he had found Belgium, she had a healthy look to her face, glowing in contrast to the bleak grey around her. Now she looked worn out, faking a smile on her lips, blending with everything else.

The spirit in the Belgian vanished when she turned away, rejected. Frustrated with himself, Switzerland rubbed the back of his head with both hands. He had no clue what to think. He felt confused. He did not want to share. Times were getting harder and sharing stories would not make any difference to the situation. It was only making him more and more upset.

He could handle his burdens and she should keep to her own! He wondered why she was concerned for him when he showed little care for her! Switzerland crossed his arms and begged in a strained voice behind clenched teeth. "Let's just hurry up and get out of here."

But Belgium did not move; she seemed to be meditating in deep thought.

Suffocated by the heavy uncomfortable silence hindering the cockpit, Switzerland ventured out of the plane to patrol. So far nothing was disturbed or out of place and it looked like the hoodlums were not going to return. In the process, he decided to keep one of the empty graffiti cans they left behind in case they would run into them again.

When he returned to the cockpit, Belgium pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Switzerland turned on the flashlight, feeling the heavy, awkward silence again. He grouchily did anything to keep himself distracted; fiddled with gun barrels; folded blankets; stole a sip from a bottle of wine; played with the ribbon around his wrist –

"I haven't told you my side of the story," he heard Belgium mutter. At first, he wondered why she was sharing her story, but then he realized after, she really wanted to hear his in exchange.

She did not turn to look at him, but Switzerland sat back in his seat, oddly waiting for her to continue. He could see her face reflected on the glass, her eyes were closed and her mouth parted to begin her side of the whole story.

"I was looking for Netherlands after the flashes..."

* * *

_**Writer's Ramble: **_THANK YOU MARCY! (Marcy, you doll. Thanks for the edits!)

___O să revin mereu, Nadia_ (Romanian for 'I will always return, Nadia' **)

_Raki _(a popular Turkish alcoholic drink)

_Okey _(a tile-based traditional game popular in Turkey, played with two to four players; not only played in homes but also in coffee houses)

_Guten morgen! _(German for 'Good Morning!')

**Belgium has a German minority; not only is she fluent in Dutch, Flemish, and French, I believe she could also speak, Italian, Spanish and of course, German, considering the visible populations in her country. :) The same way as how Hungary and Romania could understand each other's languages. As for Switzerland, he knows German, Italian and French, but I'll have him speak English here. I don't believe there is a Swiss language - everything is sort of a blend.

_Bonjour! _(French for 'Hello!')

_Lang lebe Preußen!_ (German for: LONG LIVE PRUSSIA!)

* * *

**I honestly did not know there was a famous Romanian gymnast named, Nadia Comăneci. She was awarded perfect tens in the Olympics when she was only 14 years old. Had I known of this I would have mentioned it earlier; the coincidence was rather interesting. I swear, I was just flipping through Romanian girl names online and I had a choice between Nadia and Nicoleta.

* * *

Gif for Chapter 6 with Switzerland: _(psionicbird).deviant(art).com) /art/Chapter-6-Inspired-by-Glassamilk-s-Gutters-(3 77948367) _((Remove all spaces, brackets and add http and www))


	8. Tainted Ally

**8: Tainted Ally**

_"You can't trust people, but you can always trust nature." - Dr. Ili Gidov (Bulgarian Writer and Scholar, 1968)_

* * *

Rain drops pounded against the window sill repeatedly in staccato rhythm. It was a grey, drizzly morning and Hungary was looking outside the window, her hands hugging her torso. She was in a beautiful silk white dress of lace and beads, her hair wrapped tightly on her head in a flattering bun with curls. An edelweiss flower, freshly picked from Austria's garden was pinned to her hair like a tiara would on a princess.

"What am I doing here," she said, fire and discomfort glazed her words. She intended them for the little young boy, cloaked in a ghostly white tunic of a Teutonic Knight. "This is why I'd prefer not sleeping so deeply."

On the other side of the window, little Gilbert gleamed brightly, ignoring her sour attitude. He floated closer to the pane and as he did, walls appeared around the window frame, and once more Hungary was in the familiar mansion. In the dream once again. Why?

_"Not a dream, Liz!"_ nagged the child. He was listening to every thought in her mind. _This is another dream, of course he's in my head,_ thought Hungary, face-palming. Couldn't she just sleep in peace?

_ "Vhell, sorry to bother you, right now," _puffed Gilbert, "_but I think zhere is something you should know!" _The little boy stepped aside to reveal the downpour and the garden.

It was raining and she felt foolish staring at nothing but the rippling puddles and watered plants. All of a sudden a stout man wearing a bowler hat strode across the pebbled stones, a black umbrella in one hand and a briefcase in the other. He was in a hurry to leave, his pointy shoes enduring the heavy rain.

"I assure you it vwill be safe, doctor!" cried a familiar voice racing towards him. The voice called the stout man – apparently the doctor – to stop, but he did not slow a single step.

Hungary's eyes darted to the voice he was afraid of. She gaped at the sight of Austria; drenched in the rain, hair and coat soaking wet, his glasses dripping with water.

"I just need more time," Austria sputtered, quickly stopping the doctor by the shoulder, "if you may!"

The doctor made no further resistance, grumbling under his graying mustache, he said, "M' sorry, Edelstein, but – can't work with you any longer! This' gone – far enough! – wish to resign from such project, now allow me – take my leave!" The doctor's voice turned raspy. At that instant he was cut off by a hacking noise deep beneath his throat, and then he excused himself to cough.

Austria remained standing before him; he did not step aside nor move away from the doctor's umbrella waving at his face as the man violently shuddered.

The doctor steadied. Though his throat was clogged, he still struggled to speak. "Edelstien, whatever you did –whatever you're doin'–will not solve – 'nything! There should be – a report on you –'m calling the police force –" he hacked, another fit of coughs plagued his sentences. He searched for a handkerchief in his pockets, but his hands faltered, dropping the umbrella.

Rain washed away blood and colour. His face paled from seeing his own blood adorning his hands like finger paint, slowly dripping to the pavement below. Knees giving out, he dropped his suitcase to cover his mouth. Austria remained standing, watching the man sadistically.

"I wonder if you know_ I_ am zhe authority figure around here," said the Nation-being.

The doctor tried getting up. "I –report you –soon as –leave this country!"

His words were curdled with the fluids in his throat. Hungary could see his chest heaving for air. He turned away from the Austrian and crawled for the garden gate, but he paused mid way.

"No –" The doctor clutched his stomach and made a horrifying, bubbling noise. He curled.

Austria remained standing. Watching. Not minding the rain…

"M' children –at home –" the doctor coughed, holding his stomach with both hands now. A waterfall of blood ran out of his mouth as he turned to Austria who was just staring straight at him with a look of pure apathy.

The doctor collapsed to the ground. "Save them – at least –" He gurgled one more time before the rain drowned the blood and the words.

Austria stood in front him, frozen in time. Clearing his throat, he raised a hand and motioned for servants to clear away the body.

Hungary did not expect to see a couple of men instantly appearing out of nowhere wearing blood-stained, white aprons. They looked like butchers from a slaughterhouse, and it seemed like they were prepared for this. _Oh Austria, _she shuddered, _what have you done?_

The Austrian stonily walked over to the doctor's lifeless body; the mouth oozed with blood so red and thick. His servants quickly dragged it away to the back of the mansion, and Austria lingered by the dead man's suitcase and umbrella.

The rain pelted against his shoulders, but he did not care. Not wiping his lenses, he adjusted his glasses and picked up the umbrella to shut it closed. His eyes fell on the doctor's suitcase and hesitantly he opened it. Inside were two rectangular boxes.

"So he was trying to steal these." He opened each box and found a syringe in both of them. Its contents glowed a familiar luminescent blue-green.

"Either he wanted to report these to the authorities, or use these for his own sake." Austria sighed. "Unfortunately, he was heading for two dead ends." The Nation stood up, suitcase in hand and umbrella hanging on one arm. "_I_ am the authority and…

_ "The Immunity only works on our kind, not on normal beings."_

Hungary gasped – all of a sudden she heard a knock on the door. She wheeled around and sighted Austria smiling at her with clean, swept-back hair, dressed in his dark-blue suit. His handsome, indigo eyes greeted her with gladness. He did not look like he came from the heavy rain outside. If he did, it would have been impossible to dry off in a split second.

Confused, Hungary glanced back at the window, only to find it burning brightly with sunlight. The little Gilbert phased through the wall happily, his countenance glowing with delight. Hungary noticed her dress changed to her military uniform in a mere blink. She assumed this was a memory change.

_ "Vell,_" sighed little Gilbert, his bare feet touched the ground next to her. "_Zhe first part was seriously not a memory! Zhis is like last time, how I awesomely showed you stupid Austria talking to himself, you know?"_

Before Hungary could acknowledge the Prussian, she was suddenly pulled into the memory in a heartbeat, unable to interact with the ghostly boy. Embracing Austria they left the mansion and entered the driveway. She felt like a slave forced into the past.

Waiting on the driveway was a black limousine. Gilbert faintly appeared sitting on the hood with a faint smile._ "It's been two weeks after Austria's frickin' crime!"_

Hungary tried to look at him, but the forces of the dream prevented her from turning her head. She was doing what she did in the moment – everything felt like a rewind and a repeat, with her as the puppet being steered along.

Austria opened the door for her to get in the limo. Inside she was greeted with familiar faces that almost blurred her vision to tears. The limo seated Italy, Spain, Romano, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Poland, France, Britain, America, Canada, Germany and Prussia – the little ghostly Gilbert appearing beside him. Everyone looked like they were heading to an exciting affair and Hungary could only act under the will of the dream.

"_Helló mindenki!_" she smiled, caught up in the moment. "_Jó reggelt!_" Deep inside she wanted to weep; the memory was just too much to bear. Why was the ghost showing her this? Why was she forced to be reminded of this? The memory tugged at her heartstrings.

Hungary seated herself beside Poland, across Prussia and Germany.

"Like, good morning too, Lizzy! So glad to see you!" greeted Poland, hugging her. "We should totally catch up, like, after this! Seriously, my preparations have been, like, taking up so much of my schedule!" Meanwhile, Italy sprang up to welcome her, almost bumping his head against the limo's roof.

"Good morning, Miss Hungary!" he grinned, hazel eyes sparkling with gladness. "Guess who's serving pasta for everybody at the buffet today, ve?"

"And like, I'm serving _pierogi!_" added Poland.

"Guys, you're making me hungry!" America laughed.

Germany snorted. "Settle down, the limo's starting to leave."

Austria settled beside Hungary and shut the door. "Japan, China and Russia are in zhe other limos. They're traveling with their families."

"They might be arriving late," Germany informed.

As the limo eased out of the driveway, America hollered, "Who wants to PARTEY?" The Nation held up two bottles of wine.

Beside him, France gingerly took out two silver trays from one of the compartments. Canada helped him fill each tray with wine glasses.

America had the pleasure of pouring each glass with the blood-red drink. "Ahahaha! Cranberry juice!"

"Well, I provided the wine myself, _mes amis_," said France, "and these are the finest of the – Hey! Don't pour them so unevenly, silly American!"

"Dude, I can't help it, the limo's shaking!"

"Why serve those _now_, anyway?" Britain questioned with an eye roll.

France and America almost replied at the same time.

"For a Wine Paartehey!"

"You're just a jealous Englishman, ohoho!"

Britain sighed, taking a glass from the silver trays Canada passed around. "Just, try not to spill it all over yourselves," he noted, taking a sip.

When the tray of drinks circled around the Nations, Hungary could not help but notice each and every one's expression. Switzerland reluctantly took one, and Liechtenstein accepted one as well, surprising him; Poland stole his share; Spain served one for a grouchy Romano and one for himself; Italy could not resist but take two for him and the German saying, "Ve! I got this one for you, Germany!" and with that, Germany attempted to smile; Austria mannerly offered her a glass before taking his own; Prussia raised a glass to Hungary, thinking she was looking at him – she was actually staring at the Gilbert ghost sitting on his lap. _Stupid_ _Prueßen_, she thought, glancing away from both Prussians.

"Three cheers, guys!" America announced, holding up his wine. "I give toast first!"

"This better be awesome," Prussia muttered.

"Well, we have some time until we get there," said Germany.

"We have half an hour actually. So make it short," Britain suggested – he quietly asked Canada for more wine after he finished his first.

America checked his watch and raised it to everyone's attention. "We have a whole hour, Brit-aiin! I, the hero, shall now speak!"

"Just hurry up!" Britain rushed, his glass already half-empty after the re-fill.

America raised his glass and said, "TO US!"

Everyone cheered lightheartedly –Britain grumbled in the background saying, "That was it?!"

With little to resist, Hungary raised her glass as well; deep inside, she could feel her hand shaking and her nerves pulsing to embrace all of her friends. She wanted to slap the Gilbert ghost for putting her in this.

_"Shuuush, my awesome self is about to give a toast!"_ she heard the boy say, morphing his own little ghostly glass.

"To me and everyone else," Prussia interjected. "STAY AWESOME!"

Poland chuckled, after taking a drink. "Like, I never knew you totally cared!"

"We all care because we're all _amigos_!" Spain proclaimed. "_Vivimos juntos y morimos juntos!"_

At this, Romano complained. "That's not to be brought up, tomato-bastard!"

"What? It's true, we live together and we –"

America laughed awkwardly. "Dude, don't bring up that 'D' word now! That's for later!"

The limo halted under a traffic light and everyone finished their drinks, except Hungary. She remembered she had worried about her preparations during the ride to the grand building. Right now, she was worried yet again, but this time with more to think about.

The Nations conversed among themselves as America started the music. Poland, beside her, was proclaiming to Canada about an epic party. To her left, Germany was chatting to Italy about containing his annoying behaviours. Meanwhile she had no one to bother her except the Austrian who she really did not want to talk to.

Luckily, Austria had excused himself and sat by America and Britain, apparently to discuss the Grand Meeting's ceremony. She noticed him fingering his side pocket and she immediately knew that the munity syringe was inside. This was before he'd revealed his selfish secret to her.

She found the little Gilbert dumbly fiddling with Prussia's hair, as if the Nation was going to look at him while he was clearly preoccupied with France, Spain and Romano. For a second, she wondered if Prussia could actually feel the little boy's cold, freezing touch, but it must not be so, since this was entirely _her_ dream – unfortunately controlled by the ghostly child in some areas.

Switzerland awkwardly wandered over to her side. "Lili wanted me to ask you, to gather your 'girl friends' later," he said. He sounded uncomfortable mentioning 'girl friends'.

Hungary smiled; she noticed Liechtenstein waving at her, a seat-belt around her waist.

"I will find our friends once we arrive," said Hungary, recognizing the words were what she had said before. "But can I ask where you got the seat-belt for your sister?"

"I supplied it myself," Switzerland said quickly. "Lili drank wine, and I don't trust the limo driver."

Hungary couldn't help but wonder how on earth Switzerland had installed the seat-belt on the spot, but aside from that, she dearly wanted to ask if they were still alive, for real. Nevertheless, no matter how hard she tried to speak, her will was caged to the dream.

"So about later, Vash…" she started, "Could you do me a favour?"

"Sure." Switzerland's eyes flickered to Austria, then back at her. She was fully aware of him trying to avoid the Austrian Nation.

Hungary looked up from the blood-red wine in her glass. "If it so happen that I'm assigned a seat beside someone I don't like at the meeting, do me a favour and sit on that seat for me?"

"So long as you do whatever Lili asked," Switzerland nodded. "I want her to enjoy the meeting." She knew he would agree anyway, since he was trying to sit away from Austria with his own reasons.

"I have Belgium to help me with that. Besides, you'll be accompanying Lili too, right?"

"Yes." He sounded concerned. "Hopefully, there won't be any dancing. I don't like dancing."

Hungary chuckled. She instantly remembered Japan telling her about his imagination with Switzerland in a dress. Japan had mentioned it once, during their gossip about _yaoi_ books with South Korea and Taiwan. Apparently, Japan had randomly thought of Switzerland and him, singing and dancing around the Alpine mountains.

_ "He did vwhat?"_ the ghostly Gilbert squawked, appearing by her knees. _"Zhat's hilarious!"_

She waved him off and returned to Switzerland, who was giving her a confused expression. "What? I'm sorry, I don't like dancing," he insisted.

"And I respect that," said Hungary. _Yo, ho, ho, tra, la, la,_ her mind entertained. The little Prussian was laughing by her side at the shared recollection.

Suddenly the memory made her repeat a question that shocked her, now that she knew something more. "Vash, why are you trying to avoid Roderich? I thought you two were in good terms?"

"Yeah, but…" Switzerland glanced to where Austria was, again; the man was being distracted by Italy. "After all that had come to pass, you never really forget don't you? Old histories. You of all Nations should know. And I don't like what he's been doing."

Hungary's lips parted. "What?"

"Well, he's burrowed one of my best doctors and I haven't seen the man for a while now. He said he was working on some mad things. Silly medicines and such…"

Hungary swallowed. The little Gilbert leaned against her leg, like they were telling him a bedtime story.

"Austria's gone frantic, I think," continued the Alpine, "I don't know what he's doing and I don't like the fact that he stole one of my doctors. Last minute preparations are not ideal at this rate. People are predicting an early incoming disaster."

"Yeah," Hungary voiced; she had been clueless of this before, but now it was all making total sense. "He hasn't been inviting me over to his place. Then, I guess he was still preparing last minute duties."

Switzerland nodded at this, and then all of a sudden his face froze. Little Gilbert looked at her with glittering eyes and the whole limo of Nations started to fade away. Hungary placed the rim of the glass to her lips and gulped the last of her wine only to be suddenly drench in –

_ Splaaaaaaaaaaaash! _

Hungary's face was showered with warm water. Panic-stricken, her arms flailed to stop the stream, flooding her senses. She realized she was wearing a respiratory mask loosely around her neck, and the water bounced about the mask before assaulting her face. Her throat was itchy and her eyes furiously blinked up at an empty grey sky.

She was wide awake.

Liquid blurred her vision and it felt like a waterfall drenched her for hours. In mere seconds it graciously ended. The bucket load of muck was rudely poured on her by someone–oh yeah. Right. She was back in _this_ nightmare.

"Ro, that was very gentlemanly of you!" said a voice tinged with mocking laughter.

"Why thank you Bulgaria. I could not help it. The Magyar was a very smelly, smelly, smelly corpse. I had to deal with it y'know?"

Laughter erupted.

Hungary tasted sour liquid mixed with mud and grime in her mouth. They had doused her with the marsh water.

_I will _thank_ both of them later_, she thought, quickly spitting everything out. As she did, her throat stole the opportunity to release glowing fluids that reminded her of the dream all over again.

The Immunity.

She had detested it earlier but now she did not know what to think. It was a substance made by the hands of innocent doctors forced under Austria's will.

She immediately rinsed her mouth with filtered water from one of the canteens.

It had been some odd hours of sleep after Bulgaria showed up. When he and Romania had reunited they'd immediately exchanged news. Romania had told him almost everything he'd told her; from the changes in Europe to his plans for his people, and everything else in between; the trains, his patrol men, Hungary's attempts to kill him...

That time, Hungary had not really interrupted them because she was worried. Just worried.

Bulgaria and especially Romania were both armed. Bulgaria was scrawnier than usual, but he looked strong enough with a fighting chance against anyone. When he had emerged out of the shadows with his spear, he looked unkempt and bedraggled, like he had spent months alone traveling without his favourite coffee drink.

The Bulgarian wore a black, V-neck shirt with ripped sleeves, a green scarf around his neck. His uniform trousers were smeared with stains of what looked like blood. His face appeared to be its usual colour, even though he'd only relied on a raggedy scarf against the ash.

The fact that Bulgaria did not have a filtration mask was probably because he had traveled through warmer lands, than radioactive, ash-ridden zones. That, or Hungary supposed, the air was not so bad in the southern regions after all.

One of the other things Hungary was worried about was that she was slightly afraid of what Romania might do to her and Turkey. Now that he had found who he had been looking for, she thought he would finally leave them alone. Though, he had not said anything about it yet.

The notion of finally being left alone would have made her extremely happy before, but now she was completely unsure. There were cannibals still out there and she had no weaponry in hand. Romania had Illes's trust and the trains, as well as food supplies and a frying pan, for all sake.

Hungary rubbed her eyes. Tired and sore from where she slept, she wiped her sweaty face with her torn uniform and as she did so, she could hear the ridicule from the Romanian and his ally.

"The Magyar needed a midday shower," he said.

"Wow. You really put up with her, this long?"

"It was hell."

Romania and Bulgaria's laughter faded as soon as they walked away to converse. Hungary did not feel the sudden need to run up to them and punch them both in the guts. She felt too tired and hungry for anything right now.

Gazing around, she found Turkey sitting under the shade of a boulder. His head limply faced her, fatigue etched on his features. Hungary crawled up to him with concern.

Last night, when the Turk had asked Bulgaria about Cyprus's whereabouts, Bulgaria shook his head and dismissed the subject to sleep. Turkey had given up then. He slept with clouded eyes filled with dismay, and Hungary had made sure to sleep close by. She did not want to lose this Nation; he might be the only friend she had left.

"Help me up, will yah, Hungary?" groaned Turkey.

Grabbing both his hands, Hungary stood up and raised the Turk to a standing position. He wobbled for a moment and gently told her to let go.

Hungary watched as he independently took a few steps forward. He was doing infinitely better than when they had found him. Relaxed, she handed him some food and offered a seat, although, Turkey was more interested in practicing his motor functions.

"If you can walk, I can walk," he contested. "Don't worry, I'm fine! Let's have a three-legged race against those two. Watch and we'll win!"

Hungary smiled. She was really glad he was feeling better.

However, his leg injury had not healed as much as she'd hoped. The bandages and ointments were not curing it fast enough, and a single infection would make it swell. Turkey told her he'd tripped on a shard of metal in the ravine. He had almost drowned.

After they ate the rations that were set up for them, Turkey reclaimed his satchel, which Romania had left unguarded.

Searching through his bag for Turkish food, he cursed. Someone had pried through his bag and disposed the provisions. Instead of carrying out his anger, he fished out a tile-game 'Okey' to soothe pulsing nerves. The Nation started placing the tiles on a boulder to play.

"Join me?" he asked her lightly, scattering the game tiles.

"Oh Turkey," she grinned, happily seating herself in front of the man to play a short game.

Romania and Bulgaria were no were near them. Hungary spied their little figures, through the blackened-forest of thin trees. They were enjoying each other's company, like old friends immersed in a long conversation.

Hungary could not really hear what they were talking about, but she was certain that they were exchanging jokes and stories – and they were laughing, like the world around them was not so dark and bleak. She could see Romania showing off a silly magic trick and Bulgaria admiring the Nation with a goofy grin.

_Geez, I swear those two are married,_Hungary thought humorously, believing one was gay for the other. After placing her turn on Turkey's game, her gaze averted to something utterly surprising.

Hungary noticed Romania had left behind his things, unsupervised. Unattended. Bulgaria's spear leaned against Romania's large supply bag as if pointing her to the '_Bag of Goodness'_, like a ray of sunshine.

_'Bag of Idiocy' in my opinion,_Hungary smirked, thinking Romania was stupid enough to neglect such a treasure. Immediately, she stood up, ran to Romania's bag, ripped it open, and rummaged through.

Turkey noticed her leave. "Um. I save this game for later, then?"

He found her taking out rations, ropes and blankets, from the bag.

"Whoa. What are ye doin', Hungary?"

"Don't stop me!" Hungary pronounced. She found a flashlight, a spray bottle, a medicine kit, a fire lighter, a random spell book, a bundle of candles, a book of matches and a couple of filtration masks. But no frying pan. No matter.

She started wrapping up some of the supplies in a blanket. At that moment, she hungered to leave. Find Austria. Find others.

"Someone's not thinking straight," said a voice that sent a cold stream down her spine. Something sharp was poking her back, and she instantly knew it was a pointed tip of a spear's blade.

Hungary did not turn around. She felt numb, and she could hear Romania and Bulgaria right behind her. Turkey was deathly silent.

She swore the last time she saw Romania and Bulgaria they were farther away, chatting. _Oh great, Romania has teleporting powers now?_Hungary angrily thought. The idea was impossible, even with his silly magic tricks. They had probably known she would do something like this.

"Ro, she just want to find her friends. Let her be," she heard Bulgaria say.

"Turn around, Magyar." Romania's voice sounded commanding, but oddly gentle. She fiercely dropped the bag of supplies and turned her heel, blazing her eyes at Romania's.

He was not holding the spear to her chest – in fact, he was beside Turkey, spinning a pistol with one hand and holding the Turk's arm on the other, as if taking him hostage. Bulgaria was the one pointing the spear straight at her, curiosity in his striking dark eyes.

"Magyar," said Romania, ever so politely. "Put those back in the bag. Please."

Hungary tightened her fists. _No._ She could steal the spear from Bulgaria and make a run for it. She could navigate her way to the train station, find Illes, and just run for it. Sorry Turkey. She had to go west, to find –

"You know, we _are _going back to Mister Németh, right?" Romania informed, titling his head.

Hungary looked at him, then Bulgaria. "I don't get him either," shrugged the Bulgarian.

Crossly, Hungary swatted the spear away, and started repacking Romania's things. Every escape attempt had been very hasty, as if a pulsing wave urged her to do desperate and crazy measures. She spat out some glowing fluid after a momentary cough.

Romania started ahead, Bulgaria right behind him, spear in hand.

"Keep up, Magyar!" Romania called. "I'll let you carry the bag, since you want it sooo badly."

"You're letting her carry your stuff?" Bulgaria asked.

"Yup." Romania clapped a hand behind his friend. "It's not like she's going to do anything stupid with it. She's got very little options of escaping at the moment. Oh, and help yourself with some breakfast, you didn't eat much last night. You must be starvin', Bul! Food's in the bag. Grab a bite and we go!"

Turkey was helping Hungary finish repacking, when Bulgaria loomed over them. He picked up a canned soup and gave it a nod.

"Ro's a good guy," he said to them with a strange tone in his voice. He nodded at the can again, repeating, "A good guy."

Turkey grunted at the ironic statement and with his satchel, he awkwardly limped towards Romania, ready to leave.

Standing up, Hungary slung the bag behind her and gave Bulgaria a hard look. At times he was hard to comprehend. She had known him as much as she had known Romania. Bulgaria had had this habit of saying 'no' with a nod and saying 'yes' with a shake of his head. He had maybe broken that habit, or not. _Why nod at the silly canned soup? _She wondered if he had started entertaining himself with silly, inanimate objects.

The moment he tucked the can in his pocket, Hungary questioned, "You're not going to eat, that?"

Bulgaria gave her a toothy grin. "I'll eat it later," he muttered and hurried after the others.

Hungary followed, watching the group from behind. Romania was ahead a few steps, pistols in his pockets, ambling onward with confidence and leading the way. On the other hand, Hungary intently and closely observed Bulgaria who placed a scrawny hand behind Turkey's back.

The toothy grin he had shown her was frightening. She gulped. _Where did he find his spear? Did he make the weapon…himself?_

* * *

**_Writer's Fiddlesticks Ramble:_**

_____Helló mindenki!_ (Hungarian for: Hello everyone!)

_______Jó reggelt_ ___(Hungarian for: Good morning!)_

_____pierogi (Polish dumplings)_

_______Vivimos juntos y morimos juntos!_ (Spanish for: We live together and we die together!)

Bulgaria and coffee: let's just say, it's pretty popular there 24/7. ("Coffee is highly popular in Bulgaria. However, the country's total...is far from being the highest in Eastern Europe...Bulgarians will continue drinking large amounts of coffee at home, at work or when going out..." - Euromonitor's /coffee-in-bulgaria/report)

* * *

In the very beginning, when I was reading aloud Austria's part to recheck, my little sister came up with_ this_ for the scene:

Doctor: I knew you were treble when I walked in! So shame on you now, plagued me these things I'd never seen. Then you put me down, Oh, I knew you were trouble when I signed in! So shame on you now, gave me these things I'd never seen. Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground.

*barf noises* HEEEEEEEEERGH! HEEEEEERGH! Trouble, trouble, trouble! *dies*

Austria: *turns away* And that's how you drop zhe bass.

Song is Taylor Swift's I Knew You Were Trouble. I don't want to explain... :3


	9. Into a Firelight

Special, special thanks to Luna for this one! :D

I must also thank Marcy, Spinny and you lovely readers and reviewers!

* * *

**9: Into a Firelight**

**(~)**

* * *

"Land it there!"

"I'll land when I find the right spot," said Belgium gently, pulling the yoke control and slowly making the plane gain altitude.

The little red aircraft, which Belgium decided to call 'The Scarlet Baron,' was a small two-seater. Inside its windowed cabin was an armed, paranoid Swiss and a confident Belgian who wasn't at all concerned about the creaking noises, engine drawls, ticking gauges, and red warning signs blinking all over the front panel.

After the shaky take-off almost eight hours before, Belgium reassured Switzerland that she had enough experience piloting fighter planes, bombers and autogiros, even those in worse wear. He had nothing to worry about.

"I can fly anything like this," Belgium winked. "Alfred and Arthur helped me get my pilot's license. I performed very well in the air force during the Second War. Those years were a mess, but I had a good time shooting enemy birds out of the skies. And I know there is a risk of crash landing –"

"Which I hope you won't do, under the current circumstances!" Switzerland bleated, spotting faint scars along the Belgian's right knuckles and collar bone.

"Obviously, grumpy," Belgium giggled, "we've only got this baby to take care of!" She noticed Switzerland transfixed by her lined blemishes on her hand and neck. "Oh. My scars?" Belgium lifted her scarred knuckles. "This one's from my Spanish friend, so these don't even count as a pilot's scar," she told him, and then revealed a faint line running below her collar bone. "This is from my first ever crash land and…" Belgium lifted the dud helmet and brushed her bangs away to expose something on her forehead. Switzerland could vaguely see a jagged, inch-long scar along her temple.

"This one's from my last crash landing," she said flatly. "After the Second War, I did not fly as much as I had. Maybe it was because of fear of another crash landing. But hey…" Belgium shied away from Switzerland's gaze. "We're Nation-beings. We go to war, get battle scars and yet _still_ go to war. What's life without risks?"

"A life well lived," grumbled Switzerland, cradling two of his rifles and unfurling a chart on his lap. "Take risks that have benefiting outcomes, other than that, some chances are just pointless follies."

"Benefiting outcomes and 'pointless follies' make life worth living!" Belgium declared. "I see your problem! You like keeping everything inside your borders. You like living safely within them. You don't like trespassers, you're over-protective, and you're paranoid, not to mention cheap –"

Switzerland sighed loudly. "Since when do you know me?"

"Life can't _all _be in a protective cage."

"WHAT?!"

"Okay, maybe I should've rephrased –"

"Well, what about you? You think you're so grand?" Switzerland snarled. "Countries weirdly admire you for whatever it is you do, which I don't get. Maybe because you're just another pretty girl they're sympathetic."

"I beg your pardon?_"_ Belgium jolted the plane for a second. "For your information, they happen to think I'm–"

"You're a nice country, Bel, but you've had it easy out of this catastrophe crap. You admitted it yourself! You just got tossed out of your country and lugged into one of the German camps with your surviving people and ALL YOU HAD TO DO was beat up a bunch of bad guys, and search for your brother. Huh. That's all there was, right?"

"What –are you comparing our situations now –?"

"Just keep your eyes at the skies, pilot," said Switzerland, gritting his teeth. "There's only so much a plane can take."

Switzerland turned the flashlight on and directed its beam onto the map open in front of him. The light spilled onto the front glass, making Belgium's face disappear from its reflective surface. When she turned her head to face him, he raised his chart to block her view, literally making a wall between them.

Belgium frowned, unwilling to settle the subject. "_Goed!_ But let me tell you this: all my life I've been trying to stand out and make my own mark!

"Then I look at my big brother – a hard worker, and one of the earliest of explorers! He'd left imprints across the globe! Take the _Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie_, for example. Me? No. I've done my own thing, but never succeeded like him.

"Sometimes, I feel like I carry a boring past. My people love me, but I don't know if I'd done enough for them." She laughed ruefully. "_In Godsnaam,_ some of the Nation-beings think my clothes are bland! I'm starting to believe that I _am_ a boring, bland Belgian with waffles and chocolates."

Switzerland felt the plane swerve and the propellers churn; he assumed Belgium was gripping the controls agitatedly. It took a few long minutes for the plane to relax.

The Swiss was drowning in the awkward silence when suddenly, Belgium snickered with wonderment. "So…you think I'm a pretty nice country, hmm?"

Flustered, Switzerland swallowed uneasily. "I don't think you're _bland, _or boring either," he muttered.

He'd been searching for another Nation-being since more than a week ago, and when he had spotted Belgium in the truck filled with dreary passengers, she had stood out to him. _Looking lustrous with hope and grit, _Switzerland remembered.

"And you shouldn't compare yourself to your older brother," he piped. "He's had his own strife and he'd dealt with it his own way. You had yours." Switzerland knew this very well; Liechtenstein would sometimes compare herself to him.

He sensed Belgium was about to remark, but he stopped her before the conversation took any more tongue-tying turns. "Are we going to land anytime soon?" he asked anxiously.

Belgium pitched the plane forward again, making Switzerland jump from his place, before easily recovering its position – a clear reminder that the Belgian had everything under control and that there was no need to worry.

The phrase 'No need to worry' was not quite what Switzerland had thought of while packing his weapons. Besides the two rifles which he had insisted on carrying in the cabin, he had a belt of small weapons around his waist, along with a pocket of versatile miniature grenades and knives in his jacket. He called them his 'essentials,' but they were pretty uncomfortable to carry, especially in the cramped plane. However, sitting with such heavy weaponry in the tight aircraft was the least of his problems.

By his seat, there was an open section of siding. It displayed dangerously loose electrical wires that connected the rear of the plane to its front controls. The wiring probably functioned seat-belts, seat adjustments and radios. Belgium had warned him to avoid making contact with it during the flight, noting it was safe as long as it was not tampered with. One of them was activated, connected to the working fuselage, but mercifully, no electrical energy surged from it…yet. He feared that heat and metal contact could set it off like a gas fuse. The Alpine shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Almost nine hours had already passed since the take-off and according to Belgium, they were flying northwards at a steady, energy-saving speed. She was cautious, no doubt, but she started feeling sleepy.

Keeping the flashlight on his map, Switzerland traced a finger along the route he had traveled alone and the course he proposed they were traveling.

"We're maybe around Nürnberg," he yawned, somewhat to himself. The Alpine couldn't – and wouldn't – sleep until they land somewhere safely. "Bamburg? Hof? I don't know. How are you even navigating in this?"

Belgium made an irritated noise. "What?"

"Have you rechecked the navigational system in front of you?"

"It stopped working an hour ago," Belgium asserted, steadying the plane to uplift.

"Great! You're tired, aren't you?" Switzerland hassled. "We should land. Right now is good. How are you even keeping track of –?"

"_Laat met rust, _Vash Zwingli!" Wing flaps tilted and the plane banked sharply. Switzerland braced himself. But instead of a sideways tilt or a nose dive again to jolt him, Belgium levelled the plane and eased the speed.

They'd been flying in a somewhat blustery weather, but that did not trouble the spirited Belgian. When the plane had taken off from the hoodlums' airbase, the airstreams had buffeted them to the ground, but Belgium had extreme control.

She had noted every weakness of the plane. There was the problem with the electricity shortage, some broken mechanical systems, malfunctioning panel displays and, most importantly, limited fuel. Although they had tended to these issues beforehand, it was Belgium who really managed to keep the aircraft going through it all. Already they'd covered so much ground from the airbase, and Switzerland gradually relaxed, though he did not want to admit he'd started trusting the Belgian pilot.

Moments later, Belgium announced that they were making headway to Erlangen, where she planned to land. Her eyes unwavering from the grim clouds before her, she stated, "We should be able to see landmarks down below."

"Aside from the chaos down there, I think the rubble will surely tell us where we are," Switzerland sighed sarcastically. "If we encounter flying pigs, we'll ask them for directions too." He grumpily folded his map and gazed down at the landscape beneath them. Pressing his face against the glass of the cabin, he searched the land for a clear, strip of road.

The plane glided over collapsed buildings, piles of deteriorated cars, and ashen homes. The whole landscape looked as if it had been demolished by a fiery tornado. For hours, Switzerland waited for Belgium's instructions or at least a 'preparation procedure' for landing. He wondered if the plane could even land correctly in its fragile condition.

The engine hummed, the metal creaked and the little red alarms blinked their warnings.

As the sun seeped out of the horizon for dawn, Switzerland loosened his collar. Even without his gas mask on, he could feel sweat run down his face. Belgium was not wearing her mask either, saying that it would only suffocate and obscure her vision while driving. It seemed like a fool's move not to wear any air filters while in the sky, but when they reached a respectable altitude, the air was not as hotly constricting as the fog they had encountered days ago.

So far everything was according to plan. Belgium peered over the cockpit. Now that there was sunlight, she spied a good landing spot. Switzerland followed her gaze and saw a long, narrow strip of road, left untarnished by fallen obstacles. The tarmac was long, fairly even, and overall suitable for a landing. Although it was narrow, there was enough room to fit the plane's wing span.

The Swiss felt wind leave his lungs as Belgium quickly banked the plane. Before he could complain, the Belgian angled the plane sharply, lining it up to the road.

She pulled a lever with one hand, her other remaining firmly clenched around the yoke control. Pointing the aircraft's nose above landing strip, Belgium engaged autopilot.

There was no radio tower to respond to her landing requests, but she played along with the procedure anyway, like a child playing pretend. "Scarlet Baron is ready for landing," she giggled through the broken microphone around her helmet. "All landing gears operational, expect landing in ten! We're good to go, do you copy?"

Switzerland was pretty sure Belgium was making up the phrases.

Her eyes were solidly concentrating on the asphalt ahead of them, vigour coursing through her nerves. The plane's altitude dipped, lower and lower. Switzerland could feel his stomach lurch nervously with the angled descent. The blinking red indicators, squealing landing gear and shaking metal confused him. The Alpine gripped his seat with one hand while the other hugged his two rifles.

A maniacal laughter erupted from Belgium's throat as the plane's nose dove towards the tarmac. The mass of metal jerked upward, bruising their bodies and jostling their bones from the immediate force of the touch down, then the next. The last wheel grazed following the first two, and the plane ran coarsely against the asphalt.

Belgium steered the plane gracefully and pulled on the speed brake. After what felt like hours when it had only happened in mere minutes, the plane eventually surrendered, and the landing gear stopped turning. It halted in front of a crumbled section of their new found runway that they were probably lucky they hadn't hit.

Belgium was still panting from the rush. She turned off the plane engine immediately.

After the plane's propeller finally stopped spinning, Switzerland let out a sigh of relief. The moment Belgium opened the cockpit she removed her helmet, leaped off the aircraft and ran to the nearest pile of rubble to wretch – whatever she had eaten during the flight left her system.

Switzerland stood on his seat and surveyed their surroundings. He had one rifle ready while the other leaned by one of the bags on the floor. They had landed in an isolated place with no intruders in sight. It appeared to be another dead city, looking like a war zone. _What else is new?_ thought the Swiss. He decided to remain perched on the plane, overlooking things. Belgium reappeared, flushed from the nerves.

"That was –_burp!_ – excuse me," the Nation covered her mouth. She wobbled towards the plane's cast shadow and crumpled on the dusty ground, exhausted. High heat came on them in minutes as the sun rose for noon.

"It was…thrilling," uttered Switzerland. "You did well."

Belgium felt proud. "Not bad for a flight on DR right?"

He tossed one of the respiratory masks to her and returned to his hawk-like stance. "DR?" Switzerland queried. "That navigational system so often filled with errors?"

"Dead Reckoning," smiled the Belgian. "_Oui!_ It's the fancy term describing a flight without use of a GPS and stuff. Now, about these gas masks…" She examined her mask like it was an exotic dessert. "Huh. I'm not wearing this yet." They were supposed to take precautions and have their masks covering their faces upon arrival, but strangely, the air felt normal and fair to the nostrils. Belgium tied the mask to her belt and then took off her coat and looped it around her waist. Wearing only a sweaty white tank top, the Nation cautiously checked the heated doors of the luggage compartment.

Switzerland realized she was planning to set up camp here, in the middle of an open expanse. "Are you mad?" he disapproved. "We can't set up camp here tonight! It's wide open for any attackers! They'll see us from miles!"

"Not if I can help it," assured Belgium, half of her body in the hollow fuselage as she dug through the luggage compartment. Switzerland returned his gaze to the horizon, troubled.

Finally, Belgium pulled out a canvas. It was a creamy coloured sheet that could be used to cover a section of the airplane. Before the Swiss could say any further, Belgium fished out more sheets of different colours. Some were torn in corners, but by the lengths of each canvas, it appeared she had enough to cover the Scarlet Baron.

Belgium laid out several covers on the ground, as if setting up a picnic. She nodded to Switzerland with a grin. "Once the plane cools off tonight, we'll toss this over and we're good!"

Switzerland acquiesced. _I guess I'll shoot whoever approaches,_ he said in his mind. Unexpectedly, Belgium stole his attention again. She was lying sleepily under the shade of the plane on one of the coloured canvases, heat glistening on her skin, eyes shut to everything around her. She looked so peaceful. Her brown hair splayed around her head, looking like rays of sunshine against the dark green sheet where she lay.

Clearing his throat silently, Switzerland shook his head, averting his focus back to watch duty. He thought he heard something nearby and instantly readied to aim, but to his dismay, nothing came forth. He recalled the time he'd done the same thing on the melted car, where he'd spotted the rickety truck of passengers with the Belgian Nation among them. His stomach grumbled, remembering the moment Liechtenstein's ghost had offered him a sandwich.

As if she had skimmed his thoughts, Belgium suddenly called out, "Hey, Vash! Could you please toss me my lunch? There are some snacks in my bag…"

Switzerland let out a puff of annoyance.

Belgium continued, propping herself up on her elbows. "Oh, and I kept the wine bottle in my bag too! Mind if you could toss that over, please? How about you come down here and let's have a toast?"

"Toast to what?" Switzerland muttered. He stepped down from the chair, clumsily stepped on one end of his second rifle, and –

"DOH!" he cringed. Its other metal end hit him right in the manhood. He had completely forgotten about his other rifle, the one on the floor, and he had carelessly landed on it.

"Are you okay up there?" he heard Belgium ask.

"I'm f-fine!" He got up and brushed his suit, trying to look for the other rifle he'd held just before. He didn't notice he'd dropped it diagonally beside his seat, and when he'd flinched back from his first hit, he had bumped it. "Oh, crap."

The rifle hit one of the loose electrical wires.

The butt of one of his guns made contact to it, but what concerned him even more was the collection of small weapons had had inside his jacket pockets, especially a mini stun gun clinging to his belt. There were plenty of things that could trigger an explosion in the plane.

Switzerland felt a bead of sweat slide down his forehead. _I just had to carry so many small weapons on me, _he exhaled_. _He removed a third weapon and placed it on the floor far away from the wiring. Nothing sparked.

"Vash?" Belgium called.

"I'll get your wine!" groaned Switzerland, sounding something like a wounded animal. He reached for the rifle by the wiring but hesitated at once. He turned to his other rifle.

_Damn these guns,_ thought the Swiss.

"Vash, need help?" Belgium called again.

As if she was about to find him frazzled like this, he hurriedly flung himself to the pilot's seat, ignoring the guns clattering to the floor. Heart racing, he pulled out a bottle and granola bars from Belgium's bag at the foot of the pilot seat; she even had stale crackers supplied. When he maneuvered himself to stand, wine and some snacks in hand, he accidentally –

"DUF! OH F*CK!" – jabbed his crotch once again on a teetering rifle. He staggered for footing, but the plane was a tight fit. His feet stepped on one of his guns yet _again,_ and then all of a sudden – when it seemed like it couldn't get any worse – a trickle ran up his leg.

It felt like a mouse sneaking through his trousers – _that couldn't be!_ He started shimmying to get the sensation out. The plane's confining space made him all the more frenetic.

His buttons loosened; his belts dropped. Like a gumball machine, he felt his grenades, his little knives, his radio and second stun gun spill all over the floor. Everywhere he stepped was one of his own devices. Hands full, he tried avoiding his weapons, but his stun guns had set off in frenzy the moment they touched the flooring. Little shocks surged through his boots.

If someone were to witness his silly dance moves around the cockpit he would have most likely shot them dead. "Gr! GnhF! Guh! Oof!" He gritted his teeth. He skipped, danced, hopped and wiggled; the tickles climbing up to his middle. "Ngh!"

"Vash, what's going on?"

"N-Nothing!" He flung himself to the edge, panting, looking down to see if Belgium moved a muscle. He did not want her to check on his mess and rescue him. The situation was already too embarrassing as it is. Lucky for him, Belgium was still relaxing, eyes shut – though her brows furrowed as she wondered what he was doing. "Just KEEP –nfg! – sleeping," squeaked the Alpine. "Rela –HA –ax!" Tingles reverberated along his sides, making him veer close to a heated side of the fuselage. His belt of bullets tangled around his legs, his radio spazzing by his boots. "I've GOT it all under c-control! Hurgh!"

Belgium slowly blinked her eyes open. "It doesn't sound like..."

Switzerland frantically tossed the snacks into the open air, slipping over one of his grenades in the process. "I'm just a LITTLE – grAh!" He accidentally nudged the stifling warm wall of the engine. "HOT!" he screamed hoarsely. "OH I'M HOT!"

A rain of snacks fell upon Belgium. She looked up at him, confused.

Switzerland still had the wine bottle. "I've got your –ngf!" he tried to continue. "I've got–your THING!"

A pulsing wave ran through one of the rifles he inadvertently kicked. The wave –reinforced by the loose wire's link and unfortunately, from his small stun guns – made him jolt upright on the spot. He felt like he was radiating an electrical current throughout the whole plane.

"Vash…?" Belgium had noticed him weirdly thrashing against the plane's side.

Switzerland had to kill the wire's strange currents and clean out the disarray before Belgium checked up on him – and before he humiliated himself even further among his little pieces of weaponry.

_This is what I get for sneaking some barrels, bullets, grenades and whatnot into the plane's cockpit,_ he sighed, the electrical shock drying up his throat.

Hastily and one-handedly, he threw out his spastic radio and his two rifles. He kept an eye on Belgium just in case she would attack him with curiosity. Fortunately, she just was watching him, somewhat entertained by his unusual antics. His free hand groped around for the other small weapons to organize.

From a different viewing angle, it appeared like he was simply watching her for pleasure. He blushed from the thought_. Crap, I think I'm being tortured by my own weapons. _A zap blasted through his arms the moment he tried to retrieve one of his stun guns. "GUH!"

He noticed Belgium finally standing up with defiance. "Vash, could you hand over the wine now?" she asked, restraining a giggle.

Without intending to, Switzerland started dancing around the cockpit again, wine bottle in hand. "Grnngfh!"

He thought he heard a little moan escape his system, and then he flung himself to the edge again and held out the wine bottle for her to take. He looked pretty dishevelled. "Here, I –GNHGF! – ahaaa…" A shock gripped his boots and snaked through his legs again. "Ugruuuh!"

Belgium raised a brow. She caught the wine bottle when he promptly dropped it to her hands. His fists randomly banged against the plane's aluminium siding, cold spidery needles of another current surging through his nerves.

Switzerland had to force his words out. "I'm just – ngfh! _Excitedforthewine!_" Every ounce of his face wanted to keep straight and stern, but his jerking body just made him look like a shivering, tingly, nervous wreck.

All the while he twitched and stared at Belgium's puzzled countenance, he thought about what to do with the liberated electricity._ How could I turn off my stun guns again without making contact? WHY ON EARTH is it like this anyway?_

Belgium was becoming really, really suspicious. "Are you coming down…or…?"

Switzerland shakily put on an 'I've-already-told-you-nothing's-wrong-with-me' look. His boots wildly heated up, electricity running through his legs, shifting up to his upper body. _My boots aren't made of metal though! This is absurd – what is–? I shouldn't be this–_

"AH-haaah – HAH –What-what do you mean c-climb down?" He edged closer to where the loose wire was, thinking rashly: _I should just kick the thing dead! Maybe that'll shut it off! _"I mean I'd rather – nfhghf! – be –you know – rather be –UP!" His boot impetuously kicked the wire's end, sending rivulets of spasms up his leg, stinging his senses.

_Pupfhoooosh!_ The shock sent him crashing to the plane's metal side, arms over the edge, dazed. Switzerland felt winded, sweat running down his forehead in bucket load, "Up here," he maintained, lifting his gaze up to her, "I'd rather be up here to – to celebrate…what?"

Belgium reached up to him and traced his chin with gentle fingers. "Shocking hair, by the way," she whispered, making him flinch, "is that a new look? You've got this electrifying face on you too." Instantly, her alluring smirk was replaced with an expression of disapproval. "You should've told me you were in trouble!" She drew back; clearly, she knew what had happened.

Switzerland felt a raspy breath escape him. He brushed his hair with one hand, trying to rid it of the static. He hoped he did not need to explain his humiliating performance.

With a fizzling noise, the pesky wire finally released its last electrical surge. Both Nations glanced to its direction. Switzerland found it hard to believe it had managed to shake his whole body. The shocks felt horrendous from something that was supposed to be a dead cable. He unsteadily stood up.

"I'll be right – ngf!" He could still feel the tingles fading through his being as the shocks died down. "I'll be right back," he told the Belgian.

Wiping his forehead, he started feeling concerned of a rising body temperature. The electrical shocks triggered the beginning of what felt like a feverish sickness in him. Then, as if the whole world crashed down upon the Swiss, he knew why there were so much erratic sensations. A shock from one of his own stun guns electrified him, a nudge to the engine heated his skin and a boot to the wire vehemently wrung him, and yet, it also came from his country's sickness –something he'd thought he had already recovered from when the visions of Liechtenstein had ended.

A popping sound alerted Switzerland. Belgium had uncorked the wine with a small knife.

"You know, I'm not really 'shocked' by your foolish behaviour," she chuckled, setting up her humble picnic. "It was only a matter of time until you'd set off that wiring cable. Can't say I hadn't warned you, though. But I didn't know it would cause that much shock!" She laughed.

Taking only one of his rifles this time and storing everything away safely and securely under the seats, Switzerland stumbled out of the plane at last. Certainly, he still pocketed a bunch of his small weapons in his jacket, but fewer than before. He noted his fever and sat a couple of feet away from the Belgian Nation.

The sun cruised by slowly for the afternoon. No other life in sight, no stranger intruded. Nothing. It was just the two of them in the midst of a highway with piles of dilapidated debris and a crusty plane as their company. The shadow of the Scarlet Baron cooled them, but Switzerland still had a feverish heat.

"I raise a toast," cheered Belgium, "to the successful flight!" After chugging down the wine half-empty, Belgium passed it to him, mumbling something about the drink being so unlike her Belgian beer. Switzerland drunk it down quickly before he added to the toast, saying, "We survived."

"And we will tomorrow too," Belgium chirped, "because tomorrow, we're heading up North again! We'll find my brother! He can be a Dutch dipstick, I tell you, but he's family..."

Belgium laced her hands behind her head and sprawled back down on the canvas, ready to take another siesta. "I wonder if I've ever told you – he and I fight on rare occasions," she sleepily murmured. "I confess, you remind me of him a little bit sometimes. But he's way more stiff," giggled the Nation. "I really hope he's okay though…"

Snacks eaten and the wine bottle empty, Switzerland got up, not wishing to disturb Belgium's repose. He stretched his limbs and, for the time being, strapped his rifle to his back. Hurriedly, he swung every available canvas over the plane's cooled exterior. He sealed its very existence with the covers carefully, and even enriched the camouflage with rocks and wreckage. He made sure there was a flap to lift to access the luggage compartment and the cockpit. Instead of cloth and wood, he hid the exterior sidings of the engine using stone. For the propellers, he used foiled debris. The wings were tougher to hide, but there was enough wreckage surrounding it for proper disguise. Now the plane was completely covered in a pile of junk, only the two wings protruding.

It was near the end of the afternoon when he finished setting up a tent-like space under the tail wings of the plane. In his tent made of cheap, broken materials, he could hide a small candle with no light escaping. Satisfied with his work, Switzerland felt the corner of his mouth twitch with fulfillment.

He turned to Belgium, for whom siesta time was not over, but she was playing with her gas mask anyway, afraid to put it back on her face. Switzerland exhaled. The air did not change the moment they had set foot on this place. He approached her, giving her a quizzical look.

"Help me get this canvas under the tent?" he requested, pointing at the junk-formed cave he made.

Belgium sat up and smiled weakly. She complied, helped him haul the last canvas into the tent-thing and laid it out as the floor. The ceiling was the Scarlet Baron's tail wing. It was a tight space to squeeze in, yet both Nations could fit.

Belgium laughed. "Cozy, isn't it?"

"You're not sleeping in here!" Switzerland snapped, opening the flap to let her out. "You're sleeping in the plane's cabin. Make sure you seal the flap cover. There's a flashlight up there you can use. I haven't checked if it can hide light, but it should be fine. And don't waste the batteries. We're running low."

"Okay," Belgium grinned, "So when the plane lets out gas through its engine spout, let me know."

"It does not do that," he scowled, glancing up at the tail fins. Belgium exited his tent and returned with a candle and matches for him. "Oh, thanks."

"I figured you made this tent-thing for sealing in your own little candle," she said softly. "There's still some light out, I think I'll go walk around a bit. Scout and –"

"I'll do it."

"Don't be silly, Vash. You're sick." When she turned to leave, Switzerland stopped her.

"It's best I go with you. I don't care if I'm sick."

At that, the two Nations took a stroll. His lone rifle gripped tightly with both hands, Switzerland did not make a comment about leaving the plane by itself. He had planned to put the camouflage to the test anyway – the luggage compartment and the cockpit were sealed up with all of their belongings, safe and sound.

Neither of them put on their gas masks; the silence between them was sickly sweet enough.

Belgium led the way, walking around buildings and deathly silent street corners. It started to feel eerie as the skies dimmed. The cold nightly wind slithered through the empty wasteland, sending dust up in the air. Sunset was over.

Switzerland gulped. "I knew Liechtenstein was killed the moment of the flashes," he muttered, breaking the stillness between him and Belgium.

The other Nation turned to face him. She was ahead of him by a few steps, but he could still see sadness flicker across her face. "It's okay, Vash. No need to tell me everything. I respect your privacy."

"But it's about time I tell someone," Switzerland quavered, fingering the ribbon on his wrist.

The night was settling in making further exploration difficult, and it was time to head back.

"I shouldn't keep this bottled up," Switzerland conceded as they hike a different trail returning to their plane-camp. "It's driving me insane."

Belgium did not say anything. They kept on walking.

"The first and earliest of the flashes hit north of Austria," Switzerland told her, his voice steady and rigid. "We didn't know it would hit so early and by that time…by that time, Lili was ready to leave her country. Unfortunately, the blast struck her before she had a second to walk out.

"I blame myself for putting my people first for just a few seconds. I didn't know it would cost me my sister. I should've been there with her! I should've escorted her out! I should've paid a bit extra for a ship or a plane, anything! Anything that could've brought her to me sooner before –"

Switzerland felt a lump caught in his throat, and he slowly unravelled the ribbon from his wrist as they continued their trail.

"The next day, I found her. Her face was…was unrecognizable but it was her. I found her things. Her country was gone. None of her people made it." He distractedly looked around the winding ruins to soothe his mind and proceed.

"I held a private funeral for her. Just me. I sang her anthem. I suffered extreme denial. I went insane. My country and my men went mad. It was terrifying." He quietly chuckled, and in a soft murmur he added, "I was literally devastated." _The many definitions of that single word…_

Belgium halted. "You really did not want to believe it didn't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied dryly. "My men turned on me, my country dissolved into chaos and I had no one else to turn to but her. I honestly thought she was still with me for the longest time. I was happy with her, thinking she was still with me…"

"Vash...I'm truly sorry," Belgium tried to restrain a sob. "I'd go mad too if I find Ned –" she broke off, stopping herself before she could shed any tears. Belgium heavily sat on a wood pile, covering her face with her hands. She started mumbling a few things but he could not hear through her muffling hands. It sounded like she was blaming herself for –

"You shouldn't have come save me…" he heard her say.

"Lili told me – well, I told myself I have to find anyone of our kind," Switzerland explained. "Help them and maybe help…"

He cut himself off when he noticed Belgium shivering and yet, she did not put on her military coat over her tank top for warmth. "You should put on your jacket," he suggested. "It's starting to get cold out here." Belgium did not stir, her face still buried in her palms. She muttered something about why he was not crying as much, and he gave her a reply along the lines of, "I'm over it now. It's over."

Switzerland sat beside her, fiddling with Liechtenstein's ribbon. "Belgium, could you help me with something?"

The other Nation did not move, so he let his words pour.

"Once this is all over and once we find your brother, do you think you could you help me re-establish Liechtenstein and my country?"

Belgium lifted her head, wiping away her prior emotions, her eyes glazed with joy. "_Oui, Monsieur!_ I pledge to help!" she declared, a bit too loudly. "I thought I already did! The moment you –"

"Just don't get carried away," he chided, irritated from her sudden cheery outburst.

He strode towards their hideout. They found it unmoved. Everything was how they'd left it.

Stopping at the front of his tent-thing, Switzerland opened his palm, holding the ribbon. The velvet was not crumpled; it shone against his black-gloved hand, reminding him of the light his little sister had.

He heard a thumping noise above him. It was Belgium climbing into the cockpit for the night. He saw her stretching out extravagantly to the sky, and then, with arms folded under her chin, short messy brown hair in tangles, she glanced at him.

But then the Belgian looked away again, sadly reminded of her own brother. What struck Switzerland was the fact that the both of them had this really weird connection. _Sibling senses._ He rolled his eyes.

He climbed over the wing and held out Liechtenstein's purple ribbon to her. "Tie this around your hair," he offered.

Belgium's eyes widened. "I couldn't possibly –"

"I insist," he croaked.

Belgium bunched up her locks, and without a word she invited him to tie the ribbon around her hair instead of doing so herself. When he finished, she gave him a judgmental look, like he was doing something wrong.

He felt his fever rising. Drawing back he said, "Done! Now just go to sleep." He climbed out of the wing with haste, carefully leaping over the ailerons. He miscalculated his footing when he landed.

Switzerland brushed off the dirt from his knees and cleared his throat. "Go to sleep. I'll keep watch down here. You're piloting the plane tomorrow," he said, almost commandingly. He heard Belgium let out a yawn, muttering, "If you say so." It took a moment for him to realize he was commanding her like Liechtenstein again. _No_. She was someone else's sister. But that did not mean he could not protect her like he would his own.

A little hum sounded from the cockpit, making Switzerland unsheathe his gun in a split second.

"_Up above the young Rhine_  
_Lies Liechtenstein, resting_  
_On Alpine heights…"_

It sounded like Belgium's voice singing his sister's anthem; the celestial words echoed through the glass of the cockpit into his pounding ears. He was being haunted again. _No_. _Damn it, no more! It's over!_

Frightened, Switzerland retreated into his tent and lit a candle. That night he stayed awake for as long as he could, the recent events corrupting his sleepy thoughts. The fog, the bunker burning, the hoodlums, the yellow graffiti, the turbulent flight, the guns he'd stored away, the revelation of his rising fever, the emptiness of where they were, and the ribbon he lent Belgium...

He rested on his back, rifle tucked against his chest. Out of the blue, he realized he had forgotten one thing that had never worried him before.

A sound plopped on the tail wing above – acid rain.

The rain pelted, searing some of the wreckage over his head. Switzerland stayed under the shelter of the tent, watching the candlelight fade before his eyes. He did not go out to patrol as he intended to that night. Curled up there, he could not do anything but wait for the weather to lighten.

He worried for the canvas covers. Surely they could endure the acid? He thought of the rain being much more potent now than ever before. _But maybe not by that much, right?_ He flinched from the notion. Belgium had mentioned it days ago, but he had dismissed its danger, focusing then on Liechtenstein's sketchbook.

The dark and the rain taunted him for hours. He shuddered at the thought of Nature disintegrating the whole aircraft and Belgium with it. Thunder and lightning followed. Sleep took over him by storm. At the strike of dawn, Switzerland bolted upright. Boots on, he ran outside, checking the puddles to see if they were as acidic as he thought. He daringly touched one with a bare finger. To his surprise, his finger only itched from its chemical compounds. Nothing harmful.

He looked at the Scarlet Baron and alarmingly noticed a change on the area where the cockpit was. Its top coverings were torn, the casing wide open like someone had left…or entered.

Tensed, Switzerland leaped over to investigate, his gun perked. He would shoot the first enemy he finds, and if Belgium had left –

Switzerland's heart raced. The cabin revealed to him emptiness; fresh blood was smeared all over. He flung himself to the other side of the plane and found a familiar trail: his worst nightmare.

Slick with the acid which had spited him last night were two bloody tracks of a truck. The vehicle itself was gone.

Belgium was gone too.

* * *

**Writer's Ramble:**

_Goed! (Dutch for: Fine!)_

_Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (Dutch for: Dutch East India Trade Company 1602 *Rivaled with the British's East India Trade Company)_

_In Godsnaam! (Dutch for: For God's sake!)_

_Laat met rust! (Dutch for: Leave me alone!)_

___Oui, Monsieur! (French for: Yes sir!)_

Gutters Reference: For those who have read Glassamilk's Gutters, you might have a clue of what happens to Belgium...I'll let you wonder.

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Dear Guests Reviewers! Thank you for your reviews! To be honest, I sped up my pace as fast as I could. I only had drawings to get out of the way. :D

Emma! Hey Emma, thank you for your review! Since I can't reply to you via PM, I shall thank you this way! Thank you!

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Art being uploaded in (TUMBLR) Sav**i**ourless. Find a character line up of the Minor Human characters and the lovely Hetalians! Plus thumbnails and sketches of settings!


	10. The Gallows of Sanity

I was caught up in Roleplaying as Romania. I mean come on! It's Romaniaaaah. :D

Oh, and cheers! I promise you this chapter is lengthy and action packed - um sort of?! The lengthiest, unedited one of them all OTL (Future chapters will not be as long as this one, I hope. I counted; this story'll span up to 20 Chapters WOO!)

Special thanks to Luna for the first part suggestion, ohoho!

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**10: The Gallows of Sanity**

_"We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal." - Tennessee Williams (American Playwright, 1911-1983)_

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Romania notice Hungary lagging farther and farther behind. Turkey on the other hand managed to keep up alongside Bulgaria. There was still a long journey ahead, and Romania had to keep everyone in shape for it, and everyone had to keep going.

He halted the others and waited for Hungary. "Magyar, first you had some mood swings along the way. Now I'm beginning to think you're in your cramping stage."

Hungary took a moment to spew out green fluids before finally catching up with them. She was blushing, her hand clutched her stomach. "Idiot. Incase you've forgotten, I'm a _girl_."

Turkey smiled. "Hungary, that's not what you used to say."

"Ugh! I know." Hungary dropped the backpack from her shoulders and started rummaging through. Instead of stealing things she searched it thoroughly for – "Do you have anything here for me – or something?"

The male Nations glanced at each other uneasily. Romania shrugged. "Magyar, do men carry around pads and tampons in the middle of a survival trek in this manly, hellish, grim wasteland?"

Hungary laughed sarcastically. "Then I'll just go around bleeding everywhere, _manly_ vampire! Just don't attack me in the middle of the night."

"WITCH! You did NOT just go there!"

Turkey chuckled. "I think she did."

Romania turned on him. "You gobbling Sultan, whose side are you on?!"

"Hungary's."

"Oh yeah. You're with the Magyar-Muscle-Maid with moody mood swings and bleeding organs –"

"Here!" Bulgaria cut in. "I have some bandages!" He broke them off, just as Hungary and Turkey were about to retaliate with even sillier insults at Romania. "Ro, just calm down. You too Turkey! Hungary." Bulgaria unraveled some bandages he'd pulled from his pockets, and gave them to the Hungarian. Both Nations looked slightly embarrassed that Romania couldn't help but laugh inside.

_Now we actually _have to_ get to Illes, ASAP,_ he thought. It felt ironic to curse _Mother Nature_ at this point.

They continued walking after Hungary's momentary pit stop. Bulgaria had more bandages and rags to spare, and decided to tie some around his arms like a ninja would for muscle tension – and reserved some for Hungary later. Romania smiled at this; Bulgaria's company really cheered him up. Compared to him, the Bulgarian looked like a pale, gaunt, dark-haired ninja with a spear sheathed behind his back.

_Funny Bulgaria,_ Romania pondered, _he smells ridiculously bad like everyone else in this crew_. Earlier, he did propose they were going back to the station at Arad for a quick shower. Everyone couldn't agree more the second he suggested the idea.

Problem was, barely anyone could keep up with their hygiene during apocalyptic travels. In a hostile environment such as where they were now, a person's worries were mostly on food, air and water supply, not to forget, living conditions. Therefore, a proper shower or compact wash was pretty much a luxury.

Romania also worried about possible sicknesses from the lack of bathing. The water bodies he'd encountered were lined with dead corpses; he wouldn't even go near them. What else could he do, and what more could he provide besides just enough purified water for thirsty tongues?

That sinking night, the air was chilly and fresh. A thin, misty frost coated some of the ashen earth. No one was wearing their gas masks tonight since the air wasn't oppressive in that particular area.

The group camped amidst a clearing of what used to be another forest. There were plenty of dead shrubbery and sticks fencing around them, so if anything came near within a mile the intruder would stumble upon the branches they'd set up.

Blankets covered the earth for their comfort, and their meager feast was nothing but leftover vegetable soup and canteens of water. Romania regretted throwing out Turkey's provisions a night ago. His rations were lessening, and he felt the need to restock.

Bulgaria said he'd rather sleep on the earth, meanwhile Hungary and Turkey settled at the far opposite; the Turk leaning against a charred tree trunk and Hungary a foot away from the man, and far enough from Romania.

_I did not expect this_, thought the Romanian. Who knew he would find three Nations in a span of a few weeks. Romania settled contentedly on his blanket, gulping down canned cabbage soup. It was not his ideal dinner but for now it was satisfying. His better meals were back at Cluj and just the thought of finally heading back to the caves excited him. He was finally returning with Bulgaria by his side. The wheels were now set in motion for the road to Ukraine. Everything was, indeed, running according to plan. So far.

Ukraine's the safe zone for his band of survivors, he believed, and he felt certain his people were already prepared to leave their hideouts. But he had only been _hoping_ so far. He believed in an impervious thought he had very little knowledge of. There had been no reports from Russia, nor any word of Ukraine's whereabouts, even Moldova's. So…if worse do come to light, Romania would keep his people in the caves. _And then what?_

He had been keeping people alive in that stupid cave for three or four months now. No one suffocated, no one complained much, no one was harmed and no one opposed…_Yet?_

Hope. Hope was the word. Romania furrowed his brows closed his eyes, dwelling deep in several ideas, possible options, anything. He had not planned on keeping his people in the caverns for months and months, let alone years! They were manageable folk but they could not live like this forever. They should be gathered up with other survivors, breathing fresh air outside, free, rebuilding homes, living happier lives...What else could he possibly –

"Hey." Bulgaria nudged him, interrupting his train of thought. "You look tense."

Romania sadly rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea, Bul…"

In the middle of the camp was a frail fire. Hungary had nearly shouted at them in protest because the light could attract intruders, but Romania argued, saying that there was nothing to worry about, and Bulgaria strongly agreed. Hungary silenced herself then, and retreated to Turkey.

From the moment they had found Turkey and Bulgaria, Romania knew the group was going to be divided in two, exactly like this. He did consider creating a strong allegiance between them all, but he felt Hungary was very unpredictable.

"I'm craving for some fulfilling food right now," Romania blurted, his back sprawled on the ground beside his friend who was lounging upright against a boulder.

Bulgaria blinked. "You said there's more stuff to eat in this train you speak of."

"Oh yeah," he yawned, "Illes has a load full for himself. I'm sure we'll find something. We'll be there tomorrow bright and early."

The other Nation grinned. "Tomorrow it is."

"Yup."

"Need me to be on watch duty while you sleep, Ro?"

"Watch whatever and whoever, Bul. I'm going into 'slumber-mode'. Nocturnal vampires need beauty sleep."

"Okay," Bulgaria chortled. "But _nocturnal_ vampires sleep during the day. Don't they?"

"_Shssssssshh!_ Let this adorable vampire sleep…"

"Right."

Romania listened to his friend's breathing. Although his back was turned to the Bulgarian, he felt every inhale and exhale like he was facing him, and it sent waves of relief and fulfillment in his own system. _We'll all be heading for a safe zone soon… _

The atmosphere stilled for a couple of hours until Bulgaria woke him up for his turn to watch. "That felt short," he complained.

Bulgaria said nothing to this; he was too drowsy to, and the moment he fell on the earth, quiet snores escaped his nose, eyes immediately shut.

Romania gazed around drowsily, wondering about the boredom his friend had just suffered. After an extensive yawn, he slowly got to his feet and pulled his blanket over the Bulgarian. He froze, paralyzed by a sound of light footfalls coming up from behind him. They sounded unnatural and almost ghostlike. He could feel himself tensing all over, as his mind filled with frightful imaginations of a zombie, a ghost, a cannibal…

Heaving for a deep breath and chilled to the bone, he forced himself to turn around –

A face partly covered with wavy olive hair, eyes closed, frail body rocking in slow motion, moved toward him. He staggered backwards, ultimately falling back on Bulgaria.

"Holy _MotherofVladimirTod!_" Romania cried, stumbling over Bulgaria's torso, startling his friend awake. His eyes bulged to plates at the sight of Hungary standing eerily before them, her face withdrawn and oblivious, and her eyes blind to their fright.

"Bul," Romania panicked, "What the_ Van Helsing_ is up with her?!"

"Hungary has never sleepwalked before," Bulgaria trembled, reflecting his confusion. "Are _you_ doing this?"

Romania gawked. "Okay, you know my whole vampire crap is a joke, right? And have you ever seen me perform witchcraft on _anybody_?"

Bulgaria tilted his head. "Yes. To Arthur once..."

"Oh yeah…" he remembered. "But if I was doing this, why am I as scared of her as you –?"

Hungary padded past them, murmuring something in her language. She blindly raised her hands and felt around the air as if looking for a way out of a dream. Romania and Bulgaria watched, petrified by her light-footed tread around the camp. She was barely making any noise except the soft mumbles coming from her mouth. Turkey was sound asleep, clueless.

"We shouldn't be the only ones to witness this," said Romania. "She wouldn't believe us if we tell her about this new behaviour –" he stood up, and hurried over to Turkey's dormant form a few paces across – "but she'll believe_ this_Turkey jerky…"

Romania nudged the Turk with a boot. Turkey tensed for a second and blinked his eyes open.

"Get up Turk, I think you should see this."

He helped the sleepy man to his feet, when Turkey looked around he appeared confused. "Who am I lookin' at?"

Romania returned his attention to where Hungary and Bulgaria were. There was no one in sight. The camp was empty.

Bulgaria had probably followed the sleep-walking Hungarian somewhere, but they couldn't be so far away, it was just difficult to see in the dark.

A gasp tore the silence, emanating from somewhere amidst the trees. Scuffling of feet followed, then branches crunching. Without further ado, Romania rushed to the source, Turkey at his heels, creating enough noise to wake the dead with his limping.

"You need me to drag you, wild turkey?"

"I'll race ye there," challenged the Turk, giving him a weak smile.

The second they detected two familiar figures, their grins faded. Hungary looked fast asleep, her arms around a short boulder in a tight embrace, fingers scratching its rough surface. Bulgaria was crouched before the Hungarian, cupping her pretty face with his calloused hands; he was intently staring at her.

Romania stifled a laugh to break what looked like a flirtatious examination of 'doctor Bulgaria'. "I know you two like each other, but here and right now, Bul? Well, the moonlight's up." When Bulgaria did not look up he ludicrously added, "Look how charming that rock is, in between you two! Is it your new pet? Couple's share pets right? Pet rocks, yeah? Let me take it from here –"

Deaf to his blathering, Bulgaria faced them. "Wake her up," he demanded, taking his hands off Hungary.

"What happened here?" Turkey asked forcefully.

"Ro, you said you've encountered Hungarian cannibals, correct?" Bulgaria's look was plastered with a strange familiarity; Romania had seen it before, but he couldn't quite put a finger to when…

"Ugh…Yeah, I told you," he answered nervously. "Her country's – Wait – you mean to say Hungary's –?"

"Cannibalistic," Bulgaria plainly stated, repeating the word like a he was broken record. "Cannibalistic. Hungary's turning cannibalistic, I think…cannibalistic…"

"That's a little far fetch," he scoffed, thinking about the syringe Hungary kept in her pocket. There was a moment when he had questioned her about it in the train. She'd refused to explain what the green drug was for. It was only out of fairness he'd returned it to her after receiving no proper explanation, since _he _had acted the same towards her. Now was the time she should really reveal the drug.

"I think she's hiding something," Romania suggested. "There's this drug she has, perhaps its one of the causes."

Bulgaria scratched his head. "You didn't say anything about her taking drugs or..."

"I didn't think it'd be important to mention up until now! I thought it was just one of her womanly stuff or something."

Turkey interposed, "I second Bulgaria on this cannibalism thing…Hungary has told me 'bout how horrific her people had turned. I guess it makes sense _she's_ turnin' odd…Ye know, in due time, we can suffer similar illness to that of our people…" Turkey's intense gaze settled on them, and then he lifted his sleeves to fully display the burnt marks along his skin. "I have my own problems," he sighed gravely. "Betcha, I got more 'n me I don't know about.

"Nations 're sick at this time so we oughtta get 'nough rest…and make life worth it th' next mornin'. Now if ye 'xcuse me…I need some more sleep." The man inattentively placed a hand on Romania's shoulder, nodded to him, then hobbled back to the camp.

Unveiling the trademark façade, Turkey appeared to be a vulnerable human, weary of the sad news of lost friends and longing for his old life. Romania rubbed his neck, feeling a tinge of regret for his ignorance over the tired Turk. Sure, he had been a somewhat ill-mannered to the Nation, but it was only for light-hearted amusement.

"He's right, Ro," Bulgaria bounded to the man's side. "I'm tired too."

Romania did not move a muscle. They were leaving him with a Hungarian dozing on a rock, and their reason being was that they were tired? Okay, that means he would be the one to drag the Magyar-Muscle-Maid back to the camp by himself. He incredulously crowed, "You two are just going to leave me here with _her_?!"

"You know how to wake her up more than we do," Bulgaria said over his shoulder. Instantly Turkey halted, vying spirit bloomed on his face.

"Hey, I can wake her up just as easy!" the Turk contested. He strode past Romania and stood over Hungary's murmuring figure. "I could even carry her back to the camp…Watch!"

"What about your burn marks…?" Romania worried – though, slightly impressed by the man's spontaneous bravado.

Turkey laughed over what he thought was a tease. The minute he lifted Hungary's arm, the Hungarian whipped violently. Her free solid fist hammered the Turk's jaw, knocking him out cold. Her second blow to his stomach left him winded and crippled on the ground. Hungary had her mouth gapping open as if to scream, her whole being was tensed. Turkey's fallen body tripped her and she gasped wide-awake on top of the unconscious Turk, her eyes in full circles. "Sadiq!" sounded like a hiss in her tongue.

Bulgaria ran to Turkey's side as Hungary stumbled back, realizing what she did. Romania clucked, "Well, thank goodness I didn't try waking you up." Hungary looked at him bewildered. "I mean, really Magyar, some people would just shake awake from their sleepwalk, but no not you. You punch and clobber awake."

She appeared to be at a loss of words. "Could – could someone, aside from you, explain to me what just happened? Why did I – ?" Hungary's hands leaped to her head. "What just –?"

Bulgaria quietly murmured, "She doesn't remember."

Romania watched Hungary pace back and forth. "Magyar –"

"Don't even bring up my period thing Romania!" Hungary yelled.

"Geez, Maygar, keep your voice down!" he hushed, "I know your bloody pouring is NOT the stupid factor at play here. I was gonna ask if you had a terrible nightmare."

Hungary faltered in her tracks. "Well – No! I had a dreamless sleep! I swear – I –!"

"You sure?"

She hesitated. Romania took the chance to circle her like a vulture would a prey.

"You're hiding something, Magyar."

Hungary shot her green eyes at him, an arrow piercing a target. "You hide a lot of things yourself, Alexandru!"

Romania stiffened. He had never heard her speak his first name entirely like that, for centuries. She had normally called him nicknames the way he did her. _Ha, ha! The last time she had called me that was when we were kids. How I remember those memories clear as day…_

Turkey woke up mumbling; Bulgaria was encouraging him to his feet. There was tension in the air and both Nations did not want to disrupt Romania and Hungary.

With a flick of his wrist and a pull on his sleeve, Romania flourished a syringe out of the dark, his sharp tooth glinting at the sight. Hungary frantically dug through her pockets, but she gasped realizing his sly trick.

"How did you –?"

"_Tsk, tsk_. It was just a simple bit of street magic, five-year-olds could do it," Romania beamed. "Now, tell us what this is, before I break it."

"Hey Hungary…what's up?" Turkey interjected, propping upright with Bulgaria's help.

Hungary appeared tired. Instead of attempting to retake the syringe from Romania's grasp, she remained where she stood, diminished of emotions from her sleepwalk.

Romania tartly theorized, "Perhaps this had something to do with your new behaviour. Remember I did say you were getting weirder and weirder than normal, Magyar. You were never _this_ unpredictable before. And I wonder if this needle contains a drug that makes you do things…"

"It's nothing!" Hungary insisted, trying to hide a cough. Her eyes flitted to each of them. "That's something personal! Can't we talk about this another time?"

"What's it do?" Turkey wondered.

"I'm sorry but I don't want to involve you in its business, Sadiq. It's troubling."

"You can tell me."

"Now? – but – can't I –"

Romania grew impatient. "Magyar, I'm breaking this open…"

"NO! PLEASE, STOP!" Hungary cried, her hands balled to fists, but she did not make a move to steal back her treasure. Her body shook, weakened, and ready to crumble if anything were to happen to the syringe and its contents inside.

_She should've been on me already if she really wanted this back,_ Romania thought hard. _What's stopping her? Had her nightmare taken a toll on her? Was she really turning cannibalistic? Hard to tell what's with her…_

"Magyar, is there something really wrong?" he asked gently.

Hungary glanced at Bulgaria and Turkey. They waited for her answer – the eve of night hiding their expressions in the dark.

"There's a lot to tell you," she fretted, giving Romania a softer gaze. Her eyes looked innocent and her voice sounded so pure, he was almost convinced he'd been awfully unjust to her. "I think Romania and I need to talk for a moment in private."

Romania let out a frivolous laugh with a smile, exclaiming, "No! Bulgaria and Mister Gobblesworth shall stay a while. They should know why you turned so strange tonight. You know, I'm surprised you'd rather share information with me, than with your old allies, Turkey and Bul –"

Bulgaria nudged Turkey. "Sadiq, I think its best we leave them be." Then the Turk whispered back, "This is so interestin' to watch though."

Hungary exhaled angrily. "God damn, Romania! Respect my conditions!"

"They stay awhile and listen," smiled the Romanian, threatening to break the needle again, but Hungary maintained her stoic pose, eyes glossing with tears.

"Stop it! Just –"

"Explain this right now..."

"Can't you and I –"

"Speak now or forever hold your peace…"

Bulgaria cut them off. "Ro, just do what she says."

"Bul, aren't you curious too?"

"Yeah, but –"

Turkey turned to leave. "Oooohkay, I'm sleepy."

Romania stopped him. "Turkey bird, stick around and she'll tell you why she punched you."

Hungary made a frustrated noise. "They leave!"

"They stay, Magyar."

"I said I need to speak with you _in private!_ It's hard enough for me to ask that already!"

"I believe they have the right to know too."

"Is this goin' to go on forever?" Bulgaria muttered, exchanging glances with Turkey. Both understood each other's wishes, and they started to edge distantly away from the two heating Nations.

Romania tapped the syringe against a harder surface, intending to break it this time. "Magyar, we're waiting for your lovely explanation. Now why the weird sleepwalk, and why the secrecy over this glowing goo prick?"

Hungary composed herself, and then she suddenly made a move towards him. "_Dear Romania_..." Her voice changed to a sweet honeyed tone, sounding unusually gentle and melodic – _wait, what's she doing? _

"_Oh, how my body under this brassiere crave your gentle touch_," she purred, swiftly closing in on him, her eyes hypnotic, her moves captivating.

Stupefied, Romania shuffled back against a charred tree trunk, she was too close, but he held the syringe far enough away from her. "Crap Magyar, what are you –"Her hand slipped to his palm. Flushed, he winced from the contact as she slowly pried the needle from his gloved fingers. He could taste her breath inches from his mouth. "You smell terrible," he uttered.

"I thought you were a romantic Romanian?" Her free hand fingered the collar of his jacket, serious magnetic eyes locked unto his.

Romania's face burned. He repelled from her heat as she pressed even closer, pinning him numb against the tree trunk. "I don't count you as a lady to flirt with, for fuc –" She pressed a finger to his lips, stunning him silent. She let her lips near his ear, whispering, "Watch your language, Alexandru..."

He did not know whether to pull away or just bite her neck to get rid of her. _Geez, _that_ would be such a joke – an ironic twist to my own pretense, _he gritted his teeth. He did not know if he was being harassed or tempted, either way, he disliked the feeling of her this close. This breath to breath close.

"Bulgaria, Turkey –" she turned to the two observing Nations, "– are you two going to watch our little private 'heart-to-heart' chat?"

Turkey smiled excitedly for a second, but Bulgaria pulled him away quickly and they vanished into the darkness.

Without hesitation Hungary recoiled far away from Romania as if he were a monster. Her face displayed revulsion and Romania mirrored it.

"Magyar, 'my body under this _whateveryoujustsaid_' did not make an ounce of sense!" Romania lolled his tongue out like it was tainted; her breath was toilet water to his taste buds.

"I forced myself to do that to make them leave!" Hungary told him, tucking away the needle in her pocket. "Ugh! I only resort to that tactic when necessary, and I tend to do that against Prussia, sometimes Austria would –"

"I don't wanna know and I don't care." Romania had to admit, she was a very good actress. He brushed up every spot on his glove and jacket where Hungary touched – to him, his clothes seemed contaminated by a dangerous sticky virus. He shuddered at a hilarious, childish thought of Hungarian cooties. "Guuuuuuh! I think I just got sexually harassed by a smelly chi –"

"Oh stop it, you've had girls come at you before," Hungary burst out.

He wondered how she knew that; perhaps she had spies around his country. He dismissed the notion. "Remember what I _do_ care about is that syringe you keep. I still have some pranks and magic tricks up my sleeve if you don't –"

"All right! Well, I _did_ have a nightmare!" she said abruptly, cutting him mid sentence. Hungary slumped on a rock, looking resigned and miserably drained as if every word was said with effort. Hair fell on her face hiding all feeble expressions. "My dream had _you_ in it…It was a memory of us when we were kids. I found you and…and a young Gilbert there. But that's not the nightmare I mean."

Romania bit his tongue. It felt like the wrong time to distract her with a jeering comment about their childhood. _That explains why she's said my proper name lately,_ he reflected. _Should I ask her about it? Pfft. Geez, no. Not yet. Things might get awkward. _ "How about the sleepwalking?" he asked sheepishly.

"I didn't know what I was doing," she replied. "I believe it was when my nightmare started that I got up to that point subconsciously. My nightmare was terrible. Gilbert was swallowed up by a bloody creature. There were some abstract things that appeared that I didn't understand. And then all of a sudden I was buried in that ditch of bodies again. Someone dug me out moments later though...I was surprised with who found me." Romania looked away, thinking the rescuer was him.

"It was Bulgaria who pulled me out of that ditch," Hungary whispered. Romania felt his mouth twitch with bafflement, but he remained silent. "He looked like himself: smiling, happy and just himself…until…until he took something out of his pocket. He held up my syringe, and then his face changed – it was horrific! He looked like a haunting demon with sharp serrated teeth! The needle plunged deep into his skin and he disappeared before I could jump him…and then _I _changed.

"I felt myself changing into…into something else.

"Ever since I left the ditch, I started dreaming these memory-like fantasies. A couple of times it felt so vivid like I was reliving the moment. Gilbert had been appearing in these delusions as a Teutonic Knight, and he'd show me instances I've overlooked, missed, or forgotten…

"The first night he approached me, he reminded me of the early months of my country's state. My people turned rabid and I think I might've turned – You've mentioned it before haven't you? I think…I may have really – _Istenem,_ I – I'm so confused!" She paused. "You're right, Romania."

"Magyar, wait a –"

"You're right about everything! I think I was in despair in that sinkhole!"

"Magyar –"

"You said you've found me in there after you've sent more people in that ditch! That god-forsaken sinkhole!"

"Listen –"

"I was too stubborn to listen! I didn't want to believe it! I kept denying it! I probably led people to die there in the first place! There was nothing left! People were dying, some got desperate –"

"Hungary!"

"You're winning this hell of a game, all right?!" At this point salty tears rolled down her cheeks like a waterfall. Every tear shed for the friends she missed. Every tear fallen for the heartbeats left to silence in that sinkhole, and in that country she'd left behind.

Romania felt a pang of sadness and pity for her, mixed with remorse and…_oh that brutal word_ 'guilt'. He rolled his eyes and decided to leave her alone for a little bit to calm herself. He hurried back to camp; found Turkey sleeping and Bulgaria sitting beside the man, observing him snore.

_Nothing out of the ordinary, except Bulgaria's funny restless antics, _he mused distractedly_. I should tell him he was in Hungary's weird nightmare. _

Setting aside his gas mask, Romania picked up Hungary's. Bulgaria looked up at him. "Ro, how's it going with her?"

Romania smirked deviously. "I made her cry."

Bulgaria made a face of sheer confusion, making Romania laugh. The fanged-Nation did not want to elaborate on the joke so he simply rushed back to the Hungarian, carrying a canteen of water.

"Why did you leave me alone?" she inquired the second he emerged. The question was familiar to him; he had heard her say it many years ago. _When they were kids…_

It was a blurry memory, but he could remember the events like it happened just yesterday. How he met Hungary so long ago, was one of those things he would never truly forget no matter how hard he tried. Back then, she was just a blooming little tyke, gender-confused and angry, and it was _she_ who approached _him_, obligated to fight and plunder him without mercy. She was the one who made the first bloody move – that first single bone-crunching blow to his face.

There was that one instance when she'd held something away from him._ That golden amber token of Transylvania, _he recalled_. The same gold-amber badge he'd found in that Council Hall's exhibit room. _She had held it away from him, and no matter how hard he tried, he did not have the strength to retake it until years did not bode well, their friendship spiraled down deeply to hatred, and as much as they'd tried to get along peacefully, there was just that wall – a wall that never changed in size or thickness. No matter how hard one or the other would layer it or break it, it tore down to be the same, and it built up to be the same. The wall could not be modified, which frustrated one or the other sometimes. It was that single thing that kept them distant from each other. It was a fury, a grudge and a constant fuss. A fuss concealed beneath a visage of civility before their peers.

There had always been a fuss, and there will forever be. And with that, they wove their relationship around it like creeping vines would a fence or wall. Tonight, the fuss was the syringe.

He did not hesitate to approach Hungary. He not only gave her a gas mask but also made her gulp down the water from the canteen. "All right," he said, hands on hips. "Now that you've spilled some _water_ and quenched yourself with _tears_, will you finally explain this needle you've been hiding?"

Hungary eluded his gaze; she murmured something about the grammatical nonsense of the scrambled words 'water' and 'tears'.

"Magyar." He sat in front of her, cross-legged. "I've hidden tons of secrets of my survival, but I believe I've revealed to you almost all of them. I've told you about the trains, my patrol men, my plans, caves, trade routes, travels, and Illes.

"I haven't mentioned the boats, so here it is: I've been harboring a couple of boats around the waterlogged areas. Just a couple. Nothing fancy, just paddle and planks. They're safely hidden from intruding eyes. Old fashioned ones. There's one situated farther northeast while another is a little ways east from here, docked by the newly expanded Danube. We could go up there shortly after checking in on Illes…"

The Hungarian finally met his eyes.

"Magyar, the least you could do for me, is share the secret of your drug," Romania said. Then he suddenly caught the stupidity of his sentence, and stammered, "Ugh…okay, that came out wrong."

For the first time, Hungary gave him a genuine smile. She reluctantly pulled out the needle from her pocket. "You're not concerned of my nightmare at all?"

"What – of Bulgaria?" he squeaked. Romania_was_ interested in knowing more, but he did not feel entirely concerned. He was much more intrigued with the importance of the needle she's holding. "You said you dreamt of Gilbert too. Personally, I don't want to know who else you've dreamt of in your head. I mean, for all I care you'd probably dreamt of Gilbert and Bulgaria naked or something. Geez, I don't even want to know how you dreamt me." Hungary looked alarmed. "Magyar, having dreams of naked men is nothing to be ashamed of. It's just one of those things that happen every month for women, okay?"

Hungary's cheeks reddened. "That's completely not it! And I told you, I had a memory of our childhood, not anything –"

Romania cut her off, flourishing her syringe with a flick of dexterous fingers. "So what about this anyway, that only my ears can hear?"

Hungary sighed, agitated by his silly magic trick yet again. "You're impossible!"

"_Possibly_," he admitted intentionally as another joke; his fingers fiddled with the skinny cylindrical needle.

There was a momentary pause before Hungary finally turned to the subject at hand. _Literally _at hand_._ "I could tell Turkey about that needle," she said, "but he's already burdened with his injuries. Telling him about this would only sadden him even more because it's not a cure to help him heal. This will just be sad information to him, really."

"Makes sense. I'm starting to worry about that guy," Romania replied, making the needle disappear from his palms, and then retrieving it from behind Hungary's ear – _a cheesy magic trick he'd learned long ago._ "And let me guess. You don't want to tell Bulgaria because you think your nightmare might come true? You think he'll inject this glowing goo prick in his system?"

"It's called the Immunity," Hungary stated frankly, "and yes, I don't trust Bulgaria at all, and I think you shouldn't either."

Ignoring her comment, Romania balanced the syringe on one of his finger tips. The instant Hungary reached for it, it vanished before her eyes. He grinned. "So, what's this Immunity do?"

Hungary frowned. "Honestly, stop ignoring the fact that you've noticed Bulgaria acting strange! I'm serious!"

"Magyar, I just want to know more about the Immunity at the moment. Stop ignoring the fact that you're ignoring my questions for it." He displayed a conniving sneer.

Hungary rubbed her temples. "The Immunity is the drug that has been causing me to hack out iridescent phlegm," she started. "It was scientifically designed by none other than my ex-husband, Roderich, and it was to keep he and I – and Gilbert – alive through the events of a disaster and its aftermath. If we were to fall unconscious for a lengthy period of time, this what-you-call 'glowing-prick' would mechanize our bodies internally to feed, work, and operate, until we're conscious again. Disgusting, but it's possible for our kind, that is.

"Furthermore, it cleans our lungs and filters it out, hence my coughing fits. I believe it also protects us from radiation and feverish temperatures. But I think there are major side effects. In particular, the fluids trigger vivid dreams –"

"Irrational sense," Romania gibed, "not to mention mood swings, hunger problems, whines…"

Hungary frowned. "You get it."

Romania got up and returned her the Immunity needle. He did not steal a single drop from it since he somewhat feared it. The so-called Immunity was not his business to dive into. "I don't like it, Magyar. A drug is a drug. You'll be driven insane even more than you are already."

"Yes, well, I still have my full sanity, I swear!" she retorted. "I'm stable. But now with Bulgaria –"

Romania yawned, cutting her off. "Could we leave _that_ topic for tomorrow? Our friends are sleepin' back there and I think my watch duty has been long past already. I trust you'll keep watch, Magyar. I'm off to sleep."

As he was getting up, Hungary furiously blocked his tracks. "Listen, Romania." Her tone was severe. "Are you not at all suspicious of Bulgaria? Aren't you curious why his shirt is torn up, why he's carrying a bunch of bandages, and why in hell he's carrying a spear? Seriously, you shouldn't trust him!"

"This coming from someone who tried to kill me," Romania shot back, "and who tried to steal from me several times. Not to mention try to seduce me in the –"

"Where do you think he's gotten a spear? You haven't noticed his teeth? Or the smell of his breath?"

"Magyar, what in the world do you think we do? Make-out? Bite each other's necks?" He laughed. "You know I'm no vampire."

Hungary looked hurt. "No! Oh, for once, please! Consider the possibility that something's wrong with him!"

Romania relaxed his shoulders. Unable to face her pleading eyes, he looked past her to the direction of where the camp was. It was true; he had not questioned the spear, or the tattered suit and bandages woven around the arms of his Bulgarian friend. _Could it be...? He did eat his portion of the rations…right? _

He scrutinized Hungary, eyes narrowed to slits. "If you don't trust Bulgaria so much, Magyar, why did you leave him alone with Turkey?"

Surprisingly Hungary did not panic, she'd simply put on the gas mask he handed her. "If Bulgaria was to do anything stupid, it wouldn't be this early. Bulgaria still believes you trust him after all."

"_Pfft!_ '_After all'_," Romania grunted. "That's a funny way to put it. Bulgaria and I are friends _after all_ we've been through. I still trust him, Magyar. Don't think that a little bit of your spells were able to convert me. Between you and me, you've been the mistrustful one _after all_." He shoved her aside and lightly treaded back to camp, Hungary hot on his heels, muttering something about the childhood memory again.

Romania shushed her when they reached the clearing. Right now was not the time to bring up what went wrong in the past. He needed some rest.

Turkey was sound asleep when they arrived. Bulgaria immediately sprang to his feet the second he noticed them. The Bulgarian appeared to be where Romania remembered; watching over the Turk's sleeping body.

Bulgaria cleared his throat. "Everything okay with you two?"

"We had a wonderful time fooling around and she exhausted me," Romania answered drowsily. Instead of laughing, he yawned, and then finally dropped on his blanket to sleep.

He could hear Hungary take command. "I'm keeping an eye out," she said. Bulgaria's murmuring response was, "I cleaned Turkey's wound by the way, so don't worry about him tonight." Hungary mumbled something about the Turk.

"I worry about him, too," he heard Bulgaria remark. Foot steps stopped near Romania's blanket and then a rustling noise indicated Bulgaria was settling to sleep near him.

Opening one eye to a mere slit, Romania found his friend's sleeping face in front of him. All of a sudden the Bulgarian licked his lips – Romania swore there was twinkle of scarlet among his teeth.

_ I'm just imagining it, _his mind rang. _Cursed Magyar! She's trying to break my friendship with Bul! _ Romania shifted uneasily and tossed to the other side. _But I can't help but wonder how possible it was for Bulgaria to turn bloody…_all over again...

The whole night he tossed and turned, restless by noises of scuffling and snapping. He felt like it had only been a couple of hours of sleep when he jumped awake. The whole night was an uncomfortable rest; the feeling of dread gnawed every blood and bone in his body. He wasn't even sure he'd slept! Bloody years flashed in his brain throughout the course of the night. Romania rubbed his eyes so hard that the fading blue eye spots frightened him when he blinked around the empty clearing –

He noticed Turkey hobbling around practicing his walk, a respiratory mask around his face. Hungary and Bulgaria were no where to be seen and instantly, Romania panicked.

"Turkey, where are the others?"

Turkey glanced at him like a child entertained by a jack-in-the-box. "Bulgaria's off takin' a piss, Hungary scouted ahead. Why?"

Romania was not relieved just yet. He packed up his things, slung them on his back, and surveyed the area for footsteps. He was not sure what he was thinking about. Concern and disbelief clouded his thoughts. He sensed someone's presence flickering nearby which felt familiar, but Hungary's –

Feeling the dirt with his finger tips, he gasped. The heartbeats were fast. Suddenly the rhythm disappeared. Then it was back. Another one seemed so faded. One of them must be somewhere quite far. They did camp near the train station and maybe one of them had already reached Illes.

Wait a minute. He felt some movement happening.

Something was wrong.

Curious of what he was doing with the dirt, Turkey joined his side, smiling. "I know the ground's dirty, right?"

"I'm just trying to see if I can locate them," Romania explained; this was his country they were standing on, and 'sensing' was one way to find his kind. A Nation-being could sense another Nation's presence on their turf, though the feeling could be unclear depending on the distance between and the beating of the other's heart. "I think I know where they are. Do you have your things with you? Let's hurry."

"Yeah," Turkey replied, gazing around the campsite one more time. "You know, I think Bulgaria had left to piss with his spear already. I think he's got all his stuff with him."

Romania stared blankly at the path ahead. Turkey asked him if he was all right, but before he could come up with a reply, his legs bolted forward, following the traces where the two heartbeats were pulsing.

He paled. The direction was towards the train station.

He forgot about Turkey when he ran for it. He heard the Turk say his human name, and that instantly stopped him dead. "Alex! Shit, wait!" Turkey panted. The man was so far away from him that he could only see the Turk's small figure making way through the thin grey line of trees, his curses sounded muffled.

Romania flitted back to the route before him. There was a trail leading to the lonely broken structures of the train station where two days ago he had left behind Illes and one of his precious trains. Untouched by disaster, the metal and stone locomotive, waited for them to return to Cluj.

Turkey exhaustedly staggered to his side, heaving for air and choking behind his filters. Romania petted his back. "Hey, you wanted a challenge, Sadiq," he grinned.

"I'm good," puffed the Turk, giving a thumbs up after a few quaking breaths. "You know what, I oughtta sit out for a bit...stretch me calf muscles, 'nd stuff…"

Romania led him to a jutting stone to rest while he rushed to the station. He could sense the two other Nations just around the corner. But what caught his eye was a red smear in one of the ruined walls. It used to be the building post for tickets, but now, all that was left was metal, concrete and wood holding up the corners – and one side with a bloody brush of a hand prints.

He heard a cry and decided to follow it, walking alongside a trail of bloody droplets. There was the familiar sight of his _Dacia_ _Express_, its wagons left in its functional condition as before, except –

Except for one of them.

The engine cart.

He swallowed thickly. Romania noticed blood streaming down its wide open doors. The door was off its hinges and he could hear crying coming from the room. Two heartbeats were strongly pulsing in there.

Bulgaria and Hungary.

Romania cautiously approached, unsheathing one of his trusty pistols. He jumped at the sight of the Hungarian bloodied, kneeling beside a lifeless body of a familiar friend. The whole room was smeared with several handprints of blood. There was a splatter of struggle and pain at every wall. Bulgaria loomed over them, like a shepherd with a staff, only the 'staff' was a clean white spear. _What just happened?_

Romania felt the wind knock right out of him, as if he was punched right in the lungs. The scene looked so strange and so bloody confusing, his mind went blank.

Mask gone, Hungary's face and clothes were soiled with blood and tears. She was sobbing hard by the old man's peaceful body. Illes Németh. Her hands wrapped around his cold dead fingers, her mouth trembling with shock and blood. She shakily closed the dead man's eyes.

Romania's legs weakened. Bulgaria, looking like a supervisor with an unreadable straight face, noticed him collapse to his knees.

He couldn't help but observe Bulgaria approach him. Bulgaria's spear, which he suspected was the weapon here if Hungary were to accuse, had no blood stains. None on his shirt either. Nothing. Bulgaria looked hollow when he addressed him, "I'm sorry, Ro."

"Hey Bulgaria!" Turkey called, making his way slowly to the scene of the crime. "_My Allah_, what happened? Hungary, is this…?" The Hungarian ran to him, burying her face in his scarf and chest. Tears and blood soaked his overcoat as she wept in his embrace.

Romania evaded Bulgaria's eyes and deafened his ears from Hungary's whimpers. Standing up he inspected Illes' corpse, trying hard not to choke on the lump forming in his throat. Although, he had not personally known the man, he felt extreme sadness for the innocent father who had offered his life to serve and aid him. By the looks of the blood-stained room, Illes had died a violent death, probably cornered. He did not deserve this. He'd died alone.

Illes had something wrapped in one of his pockets. Carefully and respectfully, Romania fished it out. It was a white flower fashioned from a white kerchief, tied together by an elastic band and a red and green-striped hairpin. He suddenly remembered Hungary and Illes' conversation about flowers and his daughter. The hairpin was all that Illes had left of his daughter. Romania sorrowfully closed his eyes to a thought; _the father has reunited with his family… _

He tucked the man-made accessory in his pocket, and smiled weakly, understanding to who it was for.

With the discreet help of Bulgaria, they concluded the death was from a bloody attack when Illes was out patrolling. He was attacked by a group, cornered. Maybe it was out of random. Wounded by someone – or something, they fearfully considered. He tried fighting back but the wagon cart could only have much space to struggle in. The man had hoped to turn on the engine and haul the train back to an attended a station, or maybe ring an alarm to attract a patrol, or even Romania. But unfortunately he died on the spot before anything else could be done. From the skin and body temperature of his corpse, Illes had died a couple of hours before dawn today. It had been dark still.

What confused Romania was the purpose of the attack and the question why the attacker would leave the more precious treasure of all. The _Dacia__. _

As he inspected every inch of the untouched train wagons, Romania's mind wandered with every step. He regretted the fact that they took too long afar from the train. He regretted not taking Turkey to the station the moment they'd found him. They should've been here. There _was _a possibility of something like this to happen, but why did he ignore it? He felt so stupid. There was now a possibility that the attacker –these villains – followed the railroad tracks to his beloved –

No.

Bulgaria and Hungary. Those two he could blame, right? Actually he could blame Turkey too, for some reason. But no. Bulgaria and Hungary were his two main suspects. Hungary had said she did not trust Bulgaria, and said he shouldn't trust him either. _I don't know who to f*cking trust anymore!_

His two suspects. Romania could question everything about Hungary and her motives, but it was hard to believe she would harm her own people unless she was..._turning?_ And he could no longer help but suspect the same for his old companion, Bulgaria: the unusual looks he gave to Hungary and Turkey, and the twinkle of scarlet..._ I don't know who to trust – UGH! _He rammed his fists hard against metal. The hit echoed throughout the silent station.

_ Crap. There's a possibility that the attacker is on their way to my – I need to breathe. _

Romania climbed on a solid roof on one of the train wagons. He could overlook the whole landscape from up here. Up here, the world was calm; peaceful enough to take in a deep breath from the scene below. He could see Turkey comforting Hungary, and Bulgaria hauling out Illes' body out of the train, as he ordered him to.

Bulgaria started wiping the old man clean and together with the Turk, they prepare him for a proper burial. Hungary obviously did not contribute; she was recovering from the bloody murder. Apparently, she said she'd scouted so far from the camp that, by accident, she'd found her way to the station sooner than the others. When she searched for Illes she was greeted by the horrific sight of his dead body.

Clearing his head, he acknowledged the others, and leaped down the wagon to join them. "Thanks for doing this for me, guys," he said. Bulgaria looked at him, a familiar expression momentarily plastered on his face, and then it suddenly vanished – like a flickering heartbeat. _There, then gone._

They planted a wooden cross on a mound of dirt a few paces from where they found Illes' body. "Ro, I'm really sorry," his old friend said truthfully and sadly, but he shrugged it off. "Would you like us to start our prayers?"

Romania hoarsely replied, "Sounds good." That familiar expression Bulgaria had given him confirmed his fears. _There, then gone. _That was the face of a Bloody Bulgaria he'd known a long time ago.

He stepped over to Bulgaria's side. His friend placed a consoling arm around him; Hungary could barely look at him, and Turkey's face was blank. He looked down at the grave severely as the dread settled in. _My beloved Cluj is in terrible danger..._

* * *

**Writer's Rushed Ramble:**

Vladimir Tod _(Referencing a vampire character to the American novels "Eight Grade Bites" by Heather Brewer)_

Abraham Van Helsing _(Famous name of the fictional vampire hunter character in the 1897 Gothic Horror "Dracula" written by Irish Bram Stoker)_

Dacia Express_ (Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe the Dacia Express is the train system from London to Romania. It links to a bunch of smaller railroads in the country too. There's most likely a track branching to Cluj)_

Bloody Bulgaria_ (Bulgarian Horrors in May 1876, against Ottoman rule. Bulgaria had one of the bloodiest revolutions in its time, ladies and gents.)_

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Retrace Fan Art! Courtesy by the lovely Emma (TUMBLR: francofous)

(HTTPthingy ) francofous.(tumblr) (dotcom) (/) post/57615443117/aph-retrace-fanart

I FLIPPED! Also reblogged in tumblr Saviourless

And thank you TearsFromTheMoon, for including this in your Romania Community! I feel honoured!

* * *

I included my own head cannon in here about the Nations being able to 'sense' someone like them in their country. I hope you don't mind ;)

Also I mentioned Hungary's childhood memory here with Romania. YES! It will all be in detail, revealed in a future chapter ways away. I think rearranging things would work quite well. Right now she's only mentioned it. But all will be revealed!

**Next Chapter 11 will be called, "Interlocked"** or something else. But it will now return to the usual, three POV chapters. So look forward to SWITZERLAND's Point of view which will be the first part to read on that chapter.

Finally, thank you for the wonderful reviews! This chapter was unedited by a friend of mine, so I don't know how it went. Let me know if there's anything wrong by reviewing!

Poll is now closed! Results: Switzerland won by a landslide! 42%, Romania 26%, Hungary 15%, another Nation's POV 15%. I'm considering a POV of Either Turkey or Belgium in a future chapter. Thank you for your input, dear readers!


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